“But I believe that name.”
She disappeared into the storm.
Elias followed to the doorway.
Mara returned minutes later carrying his saddlebag.
Snow covered her shoulders.
She threw it onto the table.
“Open it.”
Elias did.
Inside:
Two shirts.
A revolver wrapped in cloth.
A tin box.
And a thick black ledger.
Mara stared at it.
Elias placed the book between them.
She opened it.
Pages of numbers.
Names.
Properties.
Payments.
Initials.
Mara turned quickly.
Then stopped.
One page.
Her hand froze.
“What?”
Elias looked.
VOSS PROPERTY - NORTH RIDGE.
Beneath it:
Transfer arranged through emergency tax judgment.
Payment authorized: A.R.
Mara sat.
“My father lost this ranch twelve years ago.”
“This ranch?”
“No.”
“The valley property.”
“Where?”
“South of Casper.”
“Six hundred acres.”
Elias looked at the page.
“Reddick took it?”
“He claimed my father owed taxes.”
“Did he?”
“Some.”
“Not enough to lose everything.”
Mara's jaw tightened.
“The county sold it before we even knew the hearing happened.”
Elias turned the page.
There it was.
Payment to a clerk.
Another to a deputy.
Another to a judge's campaign account.
Mara read silently.
Her hand trembled once.
Then stopped.
“My father died believing he failed us.”
Elias said nothing.
“My mother lasted another year.”
Her eyes stayed on the ledger.
“My brother disappeared after he went looking for proof.”
“What was his name?”
“Samuel Voss.”
Elias searched the index.
Nothing.
Mara looked almost relieved.
Then disappointed.
“You believe me now?” Elias asked.
Mara closed the ledger.
“No.”
He stared.
She stood.
“I believe the book.”
That answer made him smile.
“Good enough.”
Mara crossed the room.
Opened a trunk.
Took out rope.
A box of cartridges.
Metal traps.
Elias stared.
“What are you doing?”
“Preparing.”
“You're helping me?”
“No.”
“Looks like help.”
“I'm helping the ledger survive.”
“Comforting.”
Mara loaded the Winchester.
“And if you happen to survive with it, that's efficient.”
Night came early.
The storm worsened.
Mara extinguished every lamp except the one nearest the hearth.
She moved around the cabin with the controlled speed of someone who had rehearsed emergencies alone for years.
Elias tried standing.
Pain tore through his side.
Mara looked over.
“Sit.”
“I can still shoot.”
“You can barely breathe.”
“I've fought in worse shape.”
Mara crossed the room.
Stopped inches from him.
“No.”
Elias looked up.
“You always this pleasant?”
“When men ignore me.”
“And if I keep ignoring you?”
“You'll regret it.”
He smiled.
Her eyes narrowed.
Then she said:
“You're going to bed with me tonight.”
Elias blinked.
Despite everything, a crooked grin appeared.
“Mara.”
“What?”
“Under different circumstances, that might be the best invitation I've had in years.”
“It wasn't an invitation.”
She pointed toward the bedroom.
“The wall behind my bed faces the northern ridge.”
“So?”
“Rifle slit.”
His grin faded.
“You built a firing position behind your bed?”
“I built a cabin where I intended to stay alive.”
She looked at him.
“You will lie down.”
“You will keep pressure off that wound.”
“If anyone comes over the ridge, you hand me ammunition.”
Elias stared.
“Romantic.”
“I'm trying very hard not to shoot you myself.”
“That can be romantic too, depending on the town.”
Mara almost smiled again.
Then—
A horse outside.
Slow.
Careful.
Both became still.
Another.
Elias reached for his revolver.
Mara blew out the remaining lamp.
Darkness swallowed the room.
“Bedroom.”
They moved.
Mara helped him this time.
One arm around his back.
His hand briefly at her waist.
Both noticed.
Neither said anything.
The bedroom was small.
Bed.
Blankets.
Chest.
A narrow slit concealed beneath a wooden shutter facing the trees.
Mara pushed Elias down behind the heavy bedframe.
He whispered:
“You really planned for this.”
“Yes.”
“Who did you expect?”
“Men.”
“Specific?”
“No.”
“That is either preparation or pessimism.”
“Be quiet.”
Outside, a voice came through the storm.
“Elias Kane!”
His blood went cold.
Another man called:
“We know you're inside.”
Mara raised the rifle.
A horse moved close.
Boots struck the porch.
Floorboards creaked.
Then:
“Woman!”
Mara's head turned slightly.
“Send Kane out and nobody needs hurt.”
She looked at Elias.
Her voice barely existed.
“How do they know I'm a woman?”
Elias felt the same thought arrive.
Nobody in town knew where Mara lived.
Nobody had seen her tonight.
Unless—
Three knocks struck the door.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Mara went pale.
The man outside spoke again.
“Mara Voss.”
Her rifle trembled.
Only once.
“Your brother sends his regards.”
Elias stared at her.
“You told me he disappeared.”
“I thought he was dead.”
Outside:
“Open the door, Mara.”
“Samuel wants to see his sister.”
The latch moved.
Mara whispered:
“That lock doesn't move from outside.”
Elias looked at her.
“Then someone has a key.”
Her eyes widened.
Only one other person had ever possessed one.
Samuel.
The door did not open.
Mara had wedged a chair beneath the handle earlier.
The latch moved again.
Then stopped.
A man laughed outside.
“Still stubborn.”
Mara leaned toward the firing slit.
Elias whispered:
“You know that voice?”
“No.”
“Then why are you shaking?”
“Because Samuel built this door.”
The man outside called:
“He said you'd remember the three knocks.”
Mara closed her eyes.
That was true.
Samuel used to knock three times before entering her room when they were children.
Their mother demanded it.
One.
Two.
Three.
“Your brother's alive, Mara.”
Her jaw tightened.
“Prove it.”
Silence.
Then the man outside said:
“He says you still owe him a silver dollar from the poker game in Laramie.”
Mara's breath stopped.
Nobody knew that.
She had been sixteen.
Samuel twenty.
Their father gone overnight buying horses.
Samuel taught her poker.
She cheated.
He knew.
They argued about the silver dollar for years.
Elias whispered:
“Could Reddick know?”
“No.”
“Letters?”
“No.”
“Diary?”
“No.”
Outside: