Another tore through the canvas.
Abigail ducked.
“Are they following us?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Five.”
“Can we outrun them?”
Elias looked toward the narrow canyon ahead.
“Not on an open trail.”
Her heart sank.
“Then what do we do?”
“Disappear.”
The wagon raced toward a canyon entrance hidden between two enormous granite walls.
Abigail stared at the narrow passage.
“We won't fit.”
“We will.”
“You're certain?”
“No.”
For the first time, a faint smile touched Elias's face.
“But I intend to find out.”
The wagon entered the canyon.
The walls closed around them.
The outlaws followed.
Cain shouted something from behind.
Elias did not answer.
Instead, he looked ahead.
A pile of fallen timber blocked most of the trail.
Abigail stared.
“Stop!”
“I see it.”
“You can't go through that.”
Elias pulled the reins.
The horses stopped so suddenly that Abigail nearly fell forward.
Elias jumped down.
He examined the fallen logs.
Then he looked upward.
A massive tree trunk rested against the rock wall above them.
He understood immediately.
The logs below were being held in place by one final support.
Elias took his rifle.
Abigail watched him.
“What are you doing?”
“Buying us a little time.”
He aimed.
The rifle cracked.
The supporting trunk split.
For one breath, nothing happened.
Then the mountains moved.
Logs thundered down the slope.
Rocks followed.
Dust filled the canyon.
The outlaws shouted as the avalanche of timber crashed between them and the fleeing wagon.
Elias climbed back aboard.
“Now,” he said, “we leave.”
They raced through the opposite end of the canyon.
Behind them, Virgil Cain's men were trapped.
For the moment.
But Elias knew better than to believe the danger was over.
When they finally reached Red Pine Crossing late that afternoon, Abigail was shaking from exhaustion.
The town appeared almost suddenly.
A cluster of wooden buildings stood beside a cold mountain river. Smoke rose from a blacksmith's forge. Horses stood outside a saloon. Children chased one another through the dirt street.
But there was something strange about the place.
Nobody seemed relaxed.
People watched the road.
Women hurried their children indoors.
Men carried rifles even while buying supplies.
When Elias stepped down from the wagon, a man wearing a sheriff's badge approached.
“Boone.”
“Grady.”
Sheriff Thomas Grady glanced at Abigail.
“Who is she?”
“Abigail Mercer.”
“What happened?”
“Cain.”
The sheriff's expression hardened.
“You saw him?”
“Five of his men.”
“Then he'll come looking.”
Abigail heard the words.
Her face went pale.
“I can't stay here.”
“You can't leave either,” Grady replied.
She looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because your body has had enough.”
A doctor examined her that evening.
The diagnosis was clear.
The mountain journey had placed enormous strain on her pregnancy.
She needed rest.
Weeks of it.
The road ahead was too dangerous.
Abigail sat silently beside the doctor's desk.
“I can't afford weeks.”
The doctor looked at Elias.
Before Abigail could protest, Elias placed several coins on the desk.
“Find her a cabin.”
Abigail stared at him.
“No.”
Elias looked at her.
“I said no.”
“You need a place to stay.”
“I can pay.”
“I didn't ask whether you could.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out her remaining money.
Elias gently pushed her hand away.
“Keep it.”
“I won't take charity.”
“Then don't.”
“What should I call it?”
“An investment.”
“An investment in what?”
Elias looked toward the window.
“Tomorrow.”
That answer silenced her.
Abigail stayed in Red Pine Crossing.
At first, she hated it.
She hated the feeling of being dependent.