Chapter 3 - A Town That Feared Strangers
By morning, Ward Ranch smelled of wet ash.
Half the barn was gone.
Silas stood among the ruins with Sheriff Boon.
“Arson,” Boon said.
Silas held up the broken bottle.
“No kidding.”
Boon ignored the sarcasm.
“Tracks?”
“Three horses.”
“Same as before?”
“Looks like it.”
Boon crouched.
Silas watched him.
“You know who did it.”
“I know who you think did it.”
“Voss.”
“Thinking isn't proving.”
Silas's jaw tightened.
Boon stood.
“You want justice or revenge?”
“Today?”
Silas looked at the blackened barn.
“I haven't decided.”
Boon stepped closer.
“Then decide before you ride into town.”
Silas said nothing.
Across the yard, Mian swept ash from the porch.
Luli slept inside.
Atseli repaired a scorched blanket.
They had nowhere else to go.
Silas looked at them and understood something.
The fire had not frightened him into sending them away.
It had done the opposite.
The ranch had been dead for three years.
Now somebody had tried to burn the first life that had returned to it.
Silas would not surrender it.
“I want lumber,” he said.
Boon frowned.
“What?”
“To rebuild.”
“You just lost half your barn.”
“That's generally when rebuilding becomes necessary.”
Within hours Silas was in town.
The lumber dealer refused him.
“Nothing personal.”
“Everything is personal when you say that.”
The blacksmith would not sell nails.
The feed store claimed to be empty.
It wasn't.
Voss had done more than burn a barn.
He had isolated Ward Ranch economically.
Silas walked into the mercantile.
Mrs. Ardell stood behind the counter.
She looked uncomfortable.
“Flour.”
“We're out.”
Silas glanced at six sacks stacked behind her.
“Those look remarkably like flour.”
“They're reserved.”
“All six?”
“Yes.”
Silas nodded slowly.
“All right.”
He turned.
“Silas.”
He stopped.
Mrs. Ardell's expression softened for a moment.
“Send them away.”
Silas looked at her.
“This ends if you do.”
“No.”
“Why?”
That question surprised him.
Why?
Because Anna would have opened the door.
Because babies should not freeze for the convenience of respectable people.
Because a man had to be able to look at himself in a mirror.
Silas simply said, “Because they're under my roof.”
He left.
By sunset, something unexpected happened.
A wagon appeared.
Old Thomas Bell, a farmer who rarely spoke more than five words at a time, unloaded lumber.
Silas stared.
“Didn't order this.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Thomas shrugged.
“Barn needs fixing.”
“You'll make enemies.”
“Already married twice. Enemies don't scare me.”
Silas almost laughed.
Then another wagon came.
A widow named Martha Greene brought flour.
The next morning, two ranch hands arrived with hammers.
Not everyone in Rattler Creek was afraid.
That realization changed everything.
The barn began rising again.
And Caleb Voss noticed.
Three days later, Sheriff Boon disappeared.
His office was empty.
His horse remained in the stable.
And on his desk lay Mian's ledger page.
Beside it were three drops of blood.
Silas stared at them.
Then he heard the office door close behind him.
Caleb Voss stood there.
Smiling.
“Looking for the sheriff?”
Silas slowly turned.
Voss rested one hand near his revolver.
“You should've listened when the town gave you a chance.”
“Where's Boon?”
Voss smiled wider.
“That's the question, isn't it?”
And for the first time, Silas realized the fight was no longer about two starving mothers.
Someone had begun removing anyone who could expose the truth.
May you like
And Sheriff Boon might already be dead.
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