“There isn't a back window.”
“There is now.”
He grabbed an iron poker and struck the rotten wooden shutter.
It broke inward.
Cold air rushed through the opening.
“Can you ride?”
“My horse is dead.”
“I asked if you can ride.”
“Yes.”
Ethan pointed toward the rear wall.
“There's a second horse in the lean-to. Mine.”
“You have one horse.”
“I have two.”
“You said one.”
“I didn't say anything.”
Clara almost smiled.
The sound of approaching horses grew louder.
Three riders.
Ethan moved toward the door.
Clara caught his sleeve.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain quickly.”
“They aren't here to arrest me.”
“Who are they?”
“Men working for a man named Silas Vane.”
Ethan's face hardened.
He knew that name.
Everyone in Cedar Ridge did.
Silas Vane owned cattle interests, freight contracts, two saloons, and enough land to make half the county angry.
“What did you steal from him?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why does he want you?”
“Because I found what he stole.”
Ethan looked at her.
“Three months ago, my husband disappeared.”
Clara's voice dropped.
“He was a bookkeeper for Vane.”
The horses stopped outside.
Ethan picked up his revolver.
“How much did your husband know?”
“Enough to die for.”
A man's voice called from the clearing.
“Miss Bennett!”
Clara's face went pale.
Ethan moved beside the door.
“You've been running?”
“For six weeks.”
“And Vane still hasn't caught you.”
“Until now.”
The man outside laughed.
“We know you're inside.”
Ethan glanced at Clara.
“Any weapons?”
“Two knives.”
“Good.”
“That's all.”
“You're going to need more.”
The cabin door shook beneath a fist.
“Miss Bennett! Come out.”
Ethan whispered, “When I say run, run.”
She nodded.
The door burst inward.
The first man entered with a shotgun.
Ethan struck his wrist with the revolver.
The shotgun fired into the ceiling.
Clara stepped forward and drove the heel of her hand into the man's throat.
He collapsed.
A second man appeared through the doorway.
Ethan fired.
The bullet struck the man's shoulder.
He spun backward.
The third rider fired from outside.
Glass shattered.
Clara dropped to the floor.
Ethan grabbed her and pulled her behind the table.
“Still alive?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He looked toward the lean-to.
“We're leaving.”
They crawled through the rear opening.
Ethan reached the horses.
Clara climbed onto his spare bay mare.
He mounted the sorrel.
Gunfire cracked behind them.
They plunged into the trees.
Branches whipped Ethan's face.
Clara rode hard beside him.
For nearly a mile they said nothing.
Then Ethan looked back.
No riders.
“They'll follow,” Clara said.
“I know.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“Back to my ranch.”
“You trust me?”
“No.”
She stared at him.
“Then why help me?”
Ethan looked ahead.
“Because three men with guns just attacked my cabin.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“It is tonight.”
They rode south.
Neither noticed the rider watching from the ridge above them.
The man lowered his rifle.
Then turned his horse toward Cedar Ridge.
The Ledger
Cedar Ridge Ranch came into view near sunset.
It was a hard place.
A two-story ranch house stood beside a long barn, surrounded by corrals, wind-bent cottonwoods, and miles of open country.
Clara looked at it quietly.
“You live here alone?”
“With my ranch hands.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
“Can they be trusted?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds certain.”
“They've worked for me ten years.”
Ethan dismounted.
A tall, broad-shouldered man emerged from the barn.
“Boss?”
“Tom.”
Tom Harris looked at Clara.
Then at Ethan.
Then back at Clara.
“Trouble?”
“Yes.”
Tom sighed.
“Figured.”
Ethan led Clara inside.
The ranch house was simple. A table, stove, shelves, old photographs, and a stone fireplace.
One photograph caught Clara's attention.
A younger Ethan stood beside an older man.
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died twelve years ago.”
“I am sorry.”
Ethan nodded.
He wasn't a man who talked about grief.
Clara understood that immediately.
Tom brought food.
Clara ate slowly at first.
Then quickly.
Ethan pretended not to notice.
When she finished, he placed a cup of coffee before her.
“You said you found something.”
Clara reached inside her coat.
She removed a small leather ledger.
Ethan opened it.
Names.
Dates.
Amounts.
Cattle brands.
Freight payments.