Chapter 3 - One Month Until Spring
Elias did not ask again.
That unsettled Clara more than anger would have.
After finding her inside his desk, he simply closed the drawer, locked it and placed the key in his pocket.
Then he went outside to help Samuel catch the escaped chicken.
For the remainder of the afternoon, he behaved as though nothing had happened.
Clara waited for questions.
None came.
She waited for accusations.
None.
At supper Elias discussed a broken fence post.
Samuel told a long story involving Buck, three chickens and a bucket that had somehow ended upside down over his head.
Clara barely heard any of it.
Finally Samuel went upstairs.
Elias poured coffee.
Clara remained standing.
“Say it.”
He looked up.
“Say what?”
“Whatever you’ve been waiting to say.”
“I’m drinking coffee.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
He took another sip.
“I figure if you were planning to rob me, you would’ve taken something.”
Clara stared.
“And if you meant to kill me, you’ve had better chances.”
Her hand tightened around the chair.
“So either you were looking for information or you have peculiar hobbies.”
She almost laughed.
Almost.
“I told you. I was looking for your name.”
“On what?”
She hesitated.
Elias sighed.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The wall.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.”
He stood and carried his cup to the sink.
“Every time I get close to something you don’t want answered, you put up a wall. Fine. Keep it.”
“You’re not angry?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then why aren’t you demanding I leave?”
Elias turned.
“Because Samuel finally stopped coughing.”
The simplicity of the answer hurt.
Clara looked away.
“You don’t owe us anything.”
“No.”
“You barely know us.”
“Also true.”
“Then why?”
His jaw shifted.
“That question again.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe I’m tired of answering it.”
“Maybe I’m tired of not understanding.”
He studied her.
Then his expression softened.
“Clara, sometimes a man does a decent thing because it needs doing. If you spend your life searching for the hidden price, you’ll miss the decent thing entirely.”
Her eyes burned.
She hated that.
Not his words.
What they did to her.
She stood quickly.
“I’m going to bed.”
“Goodnight.”
She reached the stairs.
“Clara.”
She stopped.
“If that man comes here,” Elias said, “I need to know whether he’s dangerous.”
Her back remained to him.
“Yes.”
“How dangerous?”
She remembered Daniel lying on the floor of their Cheyenne house.
Remembered the broken window.
Remembered Samuel screaming.
“Very.”
Elias nodded once.
“Then I’ll keep watch.”
She went upstairs without answering.
The next morning brought clear skies.
For the first time since the blizzard, the mountains appeared sharply beyond the western ridge.
Samuel begged to accompany Elias to the pasture.
Clara said no.
Elias said nothing.
Samuel looked at her with disappointment.
“He can go,” Elias finally said.
Clara shot him a look.
“I said no.”
“I heard.”
“You don’t decide for him.”
“I didn’t.”
Samuel looked between them.
Elias crouched.
“Your mother says no. That means no.”
The boy nodded.
No argument.
No manipulation.
Clara’s irritation evaporated.
Elias stood.
“Tomorrow maybe.”
Samuel brightened.
“If your mother says.”
That afternoon Clara found Elias repairing harness near the stable.
“You could have contradicted me.”
“Could have.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because he’s your son.”
She folded laundry against her chest.
“You think I’m overprotective.”
“I think men are looking for you.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s enough.”
She watched his hands work.
Strong hands.
Scarred knuckles.
Steady fingers.
A man accustomed to fixing what broke because there was no one else around to do it.
“Who is Silas Creed?”
The harness stopped moving.
Elias did not look up.
“A banker.”
“You know what I mean.”
“He owns half the businesses in Mill Creek.”
“And the land you’re on?”
Elias resumed working.
“I bought it from his company.”
“For how much?”
“That important?”
“To me.”
He considered her.
“Three dollars.”
She blinked.
“Three?”
“And a debt.”
“What debt?”
“One Creed owed.”
“To you?”
“No.”
Elias set down the leather strap.
“To my brother.”
Clara waited.
He did not elaborate.
“Your brother is dead?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Was it?”
The question slipped out.
Elias’s eyes met hers.
Clara recognized the answer because she carried the same one.
No.
Some deaths happened years ago and yesterday at the same time.
“Creed owed your brother money?”
“Something like that.”
“What was your brother’s name?”
“Thomas.”
“Was he involved with Creed Land and Cattle?”
Now Elias stood.
“Enough.”
Her pulse jumped.
Not because he raised his voice.
He didn’t.
But she had found his wall.
“Why won’t you tell me?”
“For the same reason you won’t tell me who the scar-faced man is.”
“That’s different.”
“Usually is when it’s our own secret.”
He picked up the harness and entered the stable.
Clara remained outside.
That evening a rider appeared on the southern road.
Elias saw him first.
The man approached slowly.
Clara watched from the kitchen window.
Her heart stopped.
Not the scarred man.
A younger rider.
He wore a deputy’s star.
Elias met him at the porch.
“Ror.”
“Deputy Mercer.”
The deputy removed his gloves.
“Sheriff sent me.”
“For?”
“Question.”
Elias glanced toward the kitchen window.
Clara stepped away.
“A man came through town yesterday,” Mercer continued. “Says his sister-in-law and nephew vanished after his brother died.”
Elias’s expression remained unreadable.
“Does he.”
“Says the woman may be confused. Frightened. Claims she took property that doesn’t belong to her.”
“What property?”
“Didn’t say.”
“And the man’s name?”
“Victor Hale.”
From inside, Clara covered her mouth.
Victor Hale.
Daniel’s former supervisor.
The man who had visited their house the week before Daniel died.
The man Clara had seen standing across the street during Daniel’s funeral.
“He’s offering fifty dollars for information,” Mercer said.
Elias looked toward the snow-covered road.
“That a lot of money to locate family.”
“Thought the same.”
“Sheriff?”
Mercer hesitated.
“Sheriff says we assist.”
“Of course he does.”
The deputy’s eyes narrowed.
“You know something?”
“No.”
Elias lied without blinking.
Mercer mounted again.
“If you see the woman, send word.”
“Sure.”
Clara waited until the rider vanished.
Then she opened the door.
“You lied to a deputy.”
Elias entered.
“Appears so.”
“You don’t even know the truth.”
“No.”
“I could be a thief.”
“Yes.”
“I could have stolen whatever Victor wants.”
“Yes.”
“You could be protecting someone guilty.”
“Possible.”
“Then why did you lie?”
Elias removed his hat.
“Because any man offering fifty dollars to find a freezing woman and child can come explain himself personally.”
“You don’t know Victor.”
“No.”
“I do.”
“Then tell me.”
Clara could not.
Not yet.
That night she removed the ledger again.
She opened page forty-seven.
Elias Ror.
She studied Daniel’s notation.
There was a small mark beside Elias’s name.
A triangle.
Clara flipped backward.
Other triangles appeared beside several names.
A schoolteacher.
A dead judge.
A railroad engineer.
None had payment amounts.
She searched for an explanation.
Near the back cover she discovered a line written sideways in Daniel’s hand.
Triangles are not participants. They are losses.
Clara’s breath caught.
Losses.
Victims.
Elias’s name had never identified him as part of Daniel’s conspiracy.
He had been harmed by it.
She sat motionless.
Then another realization struck.
If Daniel had investigated what happened to Elias nine years earlier, then Elias might know something about the same men hunting her now.
Before she could close the ledger, Samuel cried out downstairs.
Clara ran.
The front door stood open.
Cold air rushed into the house.
Samuel stood on the porch.
“Ma!”
“What happened?”
He pointed toward the yard.
A horse galloped away into darkness.
Elias came from the stable with his rifle.
He crossed the yard and picked something from the snow.
A folded piece of paper.
He opened it beneath the porch lantern.
Three words had been written in black ink.
GIVE IT BACK.
Clara went cold.
Elias lifted his eyes.
This time there was no avoiding the truth.
“They know you’re here.”
And somewhere beyond the dark ridge, Victor Hale was no longer asking questions.
May you like
He was giving orders.
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