Maren opened the door.
Silas sat on a black horse beneath the moon.
Two riders waited behind him.
"Didn't expect visitors tonight," Maren said.
Silas smiled.
"We're looking for a woman."
Maren leaned against the doorframe.
"What woman?"
"One who came through here."
"Lots of women."
"Not out here."
Maren said nothing.
Silas's smile disappeared.
"She is wounded."
"So?"
"She stole something from me."
"What?"
"A ledger."
Maren's eyes narrowed.
Silas noticed.
"You know something?"
"No."
Silas looked toward the cabin.
"Mind if we search?"
Maren lifted the rifle.
"Yes."
The two riders behind Silas shifted in their saddles.
Silas laughed softly.
"You've gotten stubborn, Crowe."
"I've always been stubborn."
"I remember."
Silas looked at the cabin again.
Then he nodded.
"We'll be back."
Maren watched the three men ride away.
He waited until the hoofbeats disappeared.
Then he shut the door.
Mara was sitting on the bed.
"You know him."
Maren nodded.
"Unfortunately."
"Can you help me?"
Maren looked at the blood on her dress.
Then at the silver hawk around her neck.
He thought about Ruth.
About six years ago.
About the riders who had asked questions.
About a mystery he had buried because he had been too broken to care.
Finally, he said,
"Yes."
Mara looked surprised.
"But you don't even know what I did."
Maren took a basin from the table.
"I don't need to."
She stared at him.
"Why?"
He began cleaning the wound.
"Because I know what fear looks like."
And for the first time in six years, Maren Crowe allowed another person into his home.
He did not yet understand that by morning, his quiet life would be gone forever.
The Secret in the Silver Hawk
Mara Bell woke just before sunrise.
For several seconds she did not remember where she was.
Then pain returned.
So did memory.
Her father falling.
The gunshot.
The barn burning.
Silas Vane standing in the doorway.
The desperate ride through the darkness.
And finally, the cabin.
She turned her head.
Maren Crowe was sitting beside the cold fireplace.
He had not slept.
He was cleaning his rifle.
"You should rest," Mara said.
Maren glanced at her.
"You should talk."
"About what?"
"Why Silas Vane wants you dead."
Mara looked away.
"I told you."
"You said he killed your father."
"He did."
"Why?"
She hesitated.
Maren waited.
He was a patient man when patience mattered.
"My father was a surveyor," Mara said finally. "He worked for the territorial government."
Maren's hands stopped.
"Surveyor?"
"Yes."
"What did he discover?"
Mara touched the silver hawk around her neck.
"This."
Maren stared.
She slowly removed the medallion and placed it on the table.
"There is a hidden compartment."
Maren picked it up.
He turned it over.
At first, he saw nothing.
Then Mara pressed a small notch.
The medallion opened.
Inside was a folded piece of paper.
Maren unfolded it.
It was a map.
Not a normal map.
It showed the territory north of the Pecos, with several locations marked in red.
Maren studied it.
"What are these?"
"My father called them graves."
"Whose?"
"I don't know."
Maren looked at her.
"You're telling me your father found graves?"
"Not exactly."
Mara took a breath.
"He found evidence that men were disappearing."
Maren remembered something.
Six years earlier, several cavalry scouts had vanished near the same region.
The army had blamed Apaches.
Some civilians had blamed bandits.
Maren had never believed either explanation.
"How many?"
"At least twenty."
Maren's jaw tightened.
Mara continued.
"My father discovered that the men weren't being killed by Indians. They were being killed by people who wanted their land."
"Vane?"
"Vane and others."
"Why?"
"Silver."
Maren stared at the map.
Mara pointed to a marked ridge.
"There are deposits beneath the land. Huge ones."
"Silver?"
"And copper."
Maren leaned back.
"That explains the murders."
"It explains some of them."
She looked toward the window.
"There was a settlement here. A small one. Families, miners, ranchers."
"What happened?"
"They were forced out."
"By Vane?"
"By men working for him."
Maren folded the map.
"Why didn't your father go to the authorities?"
"He did."
"What happened?"
"They were paid."
Maren's expression hardened.
Mara lowered her voice.
"My father discovered that the sheriff, the judge, and several territorial officials were involved."
Silence filled the cabin.
Then Maren asked,
"How did your father die?"
Mara's eyes became wet.
"They came to our ranch after dark."
She looked down.
"My father told me to run."
"And you did."
"I didn't want to."
"But he made you."
She nodded.
Maren understood.
"Where is the ledger?"
Mara looked at him.
"I don't have it."
"Silas said you stole one."
"I did."
"Then where is it?"
She smiled bitterly.
"I hid it before they caught me."
"Where?"
"Somewhere they will never look."
Maren studied her.
"You trust me?"
"No."
The answer surprised him.
Mara continued,
"But you're the first man I've met in days who pointed a gun at me and then lowered it."
Maren almost smiled.
Almost.
That morning, he saddled his horse.
"We're leaving."
Mara looked startled.
"Where?"
"Somewhere Vane won't find us."
She shook her head.
"I can't leave."
"You can barely walk."
"I need to retrieve the ledger."
"No."
"You don't understand."
"I understand perfectly."
Maren tightened the saddle strap.
"If the ledger exists, Vane will search until he finds it."
"And if I don't get it?"
"Then we survive."
Mara stared at him.
"My father died so I could bring the truth to someone who could stop them."
Maren turned.
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"Then you're riding toward a grave."
She stepped closer.
"My father believed there was one honest federal marshal left in the territory."
"Name?"
"Jonathan Hale."
Maren went still.