Chapter 12 - The Night the Mountain Tried to Take Them
They made it less than six miles.
Snow swallowed the road.
Jeb leaned forward in the wagon, trying to see.
Charlene's fingers had gone numb despite wool gloves.
“We have to turn back.”
“No.”
“Jeb.”
“Bethany could be out here.”
“So could we.”
His jaw tightened.
The horse stumbled.
That decided it.
Jeb pulled the reins.
“We take shelter at Miller's line cabin.”
“How far?”
“Half mile.”
The line cabin was barely more than a shack.
One room.
Stone fireplace.
No food.
But it blocked wind.
Jeb started a fire.
Charlene paced.
“What if Bethany never reached town?”
“She had several hours.”
“In this weather?”
“She knows the road.”
Charlene looked at him.
“So did Sarah.”
The words came out before she could stop them.
Jeb froze.
Charlene closed her eyes.
“I'm sorry.”
He stared into the fire.
“No.”
“I shouldn't have—”
“You're right.”
“Jeb.”
“That is why I didn't turn back earlier.”
Understanding hit her.
He wasn't only rescuing Bethany.
He was reliving Sarah.
“If I had gone after Sarah sooner…”
Charlene knelt in front of him.
“You cannot save one woman to rewrite what happened to another.”
His eyes lifted.
“Maybe I can stop it happening again.”
“Then stay alive.”
Wind slammed the walls.
The memory had its claws in him.
Charlene took his face between her hands.
“Look at me.”
He did.
“You found Sarah.”
His eyes filled.
“You carried her home.”
His breathing changed.
“You didn't abandon her.”
“Charlene—”
“And you are not abandoning Bethany by waiting for a storm to pass.”
Something in him broke.
His forehead lowered against hers.
“I loved her.”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
“I know.”
“Feels like betrayal sometimes.”
Charlene's heart cracked open.
“Loving me?”
“Yes.”
She held him.
“Then we'll both learn.”
“Learn what?”
“That the heart isn't a grave with one space.”
Jeb's arms closed around her.
They remained that way until wind softened.
Near midnight, hoofbeats sounded outside.
Jeb stood instantly.
The door burst open.
Bethany stumbled inside.
Her face was blue with cold.
Charlene caught her.
“Oh God.”
Bethany could barely speak.
“He…”
Jeb wrapped blankets around her.
“Where's your horse?”
“Lost.”
Charlene pressed warm cloth to Bethany's hands.
“What happened?”
“Nathaniel found me.”
Her teeth chattered.
“On the road?”
“Near town.”
“Did he hurt you?”
Bethany shook her head.
“No.”
Then:
“Not… like that.”
Charlene understood.
“What did he do?”
“Took papers.”
“Your brother?”
“He lied.”
Bethany began crying.
“There was no charge. Henry wasn't in danger.”
Nathaniel had manipulated her.
Of course.
“Why didn't you stay in town?”
Bethany looked terrified.
“Because I heard him talking to Crowe.”
Jeb's expression sharpened.
“What did they say?”
“They're going to burn the land records.”
Silence.
Charlene's pulse stopped.
“What?”
“Courthouse archive.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
Jeb stood.
“No.”
“Storm means nobody watching.”
Bethany grabbed his sleeve.
“If the old deeds disappear, Nathaniel can replace them with bank copies.”
Charlene understood.
Sarah's ledger was damaged.
Their strongest independent proof sat in the courthouse.
If destroyed, Nathaniel controlled the paperwork.
“We have to go.”
Jeb looked outside.
“Road's impossible.”
Bethany shook her head.
“There's another way.”
Jeb turned.
“What?”
“The old logging cut.”
His face went grim.
“In winter?”
“It comes out behind the church.”
“Too steep.”
Charlene stood.
“So we wait and lose everything?”
Jeb stared.
She continued.
“Can horses manage?”
“Maybe.”
“Then we go.”
He looked furious.
“With Bethany half frozen?”
“I'll stay,” Bethany said.
“No,” Charlene answered.
Jeb studied both women.
He muttered something impolite.
Twenty minutes later, they left Bethany safely at the line cabin with firewood and rode toward Bitter Creek.
The logging cut was terrifying.
Narrow.
Steep.
Snow-covered.
Twice Charlene thought her horse would slip.
Jeb rode ahead, breaking trail.
“Still with me?”
“Yes.”
“You can complain.”
“I am saving it.”
“For?”
“When we survive.”
He laughed.
Somehow the sound gave her courage.
They reached Bitter Creek after two in the morning.
No lamps.
No people.
Snow covered Main Street.
Then Jeb saw smoke.
Not from a chimney.
Courthouse.
They rode hard.
Flames licked one rear window.
Charlene's heart stopped.
Jeb jumped from his horse.
“Stay—”
He caught himself.
Charlene almost smiled.
“Good choice.”
They ran.
The rear door had been forced.
Inside, smoke filled the records room.
Fire had begun along one shelf.
Small enough to stop.
For now.
Jeb grabbed a rug and smothered flames.
Charlene hauled boxes away.
Then she heard movement.
Someone else was inside.
“Jeb.”
He turned.
Footsteps.
A man emerged through smoke.
Silas Crowe.
Charlene recognized him from Bethany's description.
Crowe froze.
Jeb stared.
Nobody spoke.
Then Crowe ran.
Jeb started after him.
Charlene caught his arm.
“Records.”
He looked torn.
She pointed.
“If we lose these, he wins anyway.”
Jeb returned.
Together they extinguished the fire.
Minutes later bells rang.
Deputy Owens arrived.
Then Reverend Clay.
Then half the town.
Nathaniel appeared last.
Too late.
Too clean.
Charlene noticed.
No snow on his shoulders.
He had been indoors.
“What's happened?” he demanded.
Deputy Owens looked at the forced door.
“Attempted arson.”
Nathaniel's face remained controlled.
Charlene watched him.
“We saw Crowe.”
His expression shifted.
Barely.
But enough.
“You're mistaken.”
Jeb stared.
“How'd you know who she meant?”
Silence.
Nathaniel realized.
Too late.
Charlene had not said Silas's first name.
Only Crowe.
Yet Nathaniel immediately understood.
Deputy Owens understood too.
“Mr. Reed.”
Nathaniel's jaw tightened.
“Yes?”
“I believe we need a conversation.”
Nathaniel looked at Charlene.
For the first time since she had known him, he looked afraid.
But the night was not finished.
The courthouse clerk found the Wolverine Ridge deed.
Original.
Stamped.
Recorded.
Valid.
The debt had been paid twenty-one years earlier.
Jeb's land was safe.
Charlene cried when she saw his name.
Not because ink mattered.
Because five children could stay home.
Jeb wrapped his arms around her.
In the crowded courthouse.
In front of everyone.
“I love you.”
He didn't whisper.
He said it loudly enough for Bitter Creek to hear.
Charlene laughed through tears.
“Sarah would be proud.”
Jeb smiled.
“She'd say it took me long enough.”
By dawn, the storm had broken.
But back at Wolverine Ridge, another crisis had begun.
May you like
Toby was burning with fever.
And for Charlene, saving land would suddenly mean nothing compared with saving one little boy who had come to believe her arms were home.
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