Clara whispered behind Ethan.
“That's Silas Boone.”
“I know.”
“You know him?”
“He worked for my father.”
Her expression changed.
“Then you really don't understand.”
“Understand what?”
She looked toward the window.
“Your father is the reason they're after me.”
Ethan turned.
“What did you say?”
Before she could answer, a bullet smashed through the window.
Glass exploded across the room.
Ethan pulled Clara to the floor.
Another shot struck the wall.
“Stay down!”
He crawled toward the fireplace.
His father's rifle hung above the mantel.
He reached for it.
The familiar weight settled into his hands.
Outside, Silas shouted.
“Ethan! This doesn't concern you!”
Ethan laughed bitterly.
“You're shooting at my cabin, Silas!”
“You don't know what you're protecting!”
“Then come inside and explain it.”
Silence.
Then Silas shouted:
“Burn it.”
Clara grabbed Ethan's arm.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“They'll burn us out.”
“I know.”
“Then we leave through the back.”
“There isn't time.”
Ethan looked toward the rear door.
A red glow appeared through the cracks.
Fire.
Someone had set the cabin ablaze.
Smoke began filling the room.
Ethan kicked open the rear window.
“Go!”
Clara climbed through.
Ethan followed.
They ran into the forest as flames swallowed the porch.
Behind them, men shouted.
Ethan and Clara disappeared into the pines.
They ran until the cabin was no longer visible.
Then Clara stumbled.
Ethan caught her.
She looked down.
Blood had soaked through her dress near the ribs.
“You've been shot.”
“Not today.”
“What?”
“The blood is old.”
Ethan stared at her.
“Then whose blood is it?”
Clara hesitated.
“Your father's.”
Ethan went completely still.
“What?”
She reached into her coat and pulled out a small leather journal.
“I found this in your father's house.”
Ethan recognized the handwriting immediately.
Samuel Cole.
His father had been dead for four years.
Ethan opened the journal.
Most of the pages were filled with numbers.
Dates.
Names.
Land measurements.
Payments.
Then, near the middle, one sentence had been written repeatedly:
They are stealing the valley.
Ethan looked at Clara.
“What is this?”
“The reason I came here.”
“Why?”
“Because your father discovered something before he died.”
“What?”
Clara's voice dropped.
“Someone is killing ranchers.”
Three — The Names in the Book
They spent the night beneath a rock overhang two miles south of the burned cabin.
Ethan built no fire.
Clara complained once about the cold.
He ignored her.
He was too busy reading his father's journal.
The names were familiar.
Tom Reddick.
Joseph Harrow.
Benjamin Pike.
All ranchers.
All dead.
Ethan remembered them.
Tom Reddick had died when his horse supposedly bolted.
Joseph Harrow had been found in his barn after a fire.
Benjamin Pike had disappeared.
The sheriff had called it an accident.
Ethan turned another page.
There were dates beside each name.
Then land parcel numbers.
Then payments.
Every dead rancher had owned property near Cold Creek.
Ethan stared at the map.
His father had marked the creek in red.
“What is under Cold Creek?” Clara asked.
“Nothing.”
“Your father thought differently.”
Ethan looked at her.
“You said you found this journal in my father's house.”
“Yes.”
“Which house?”
“The ranch house.”
“You broke in?”
“I had to.”
“Why?”
“Because your father hid something there.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
Ethan closed the journal.
“That's not good enough.”
Clara looked away.
“My brother was one of the men who died.”
Ethan said nothing.
“His name was Daniel Bell.”
She took a breath.
“He owned a small ranch east of Cold Creek. Six months ago, he was found dead in his barn.”
“What did the sheriff say?”
“That he fell from the loft.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I found a bullet hole in his shirt.”
Ethan's expression hardened.
“Why didn't the sheriff investigate?”
“He did.”
“And?”
“He decided the bullet hole was from an old hunting accident.”
Ethan looked toward the darkness.
“Who was the sheriff?”
“Wade Mercer.”
Ethan knew him.
Mercer had been sheriff for fifteen years.
He had also attended every funeral of the men listed in the journal.
Clara continued.
“After Daniel died, I found papers showing that someone had been buying land from the dead ranchers' families.”
“Who?”
“No name.”
“Company?”
“Cedar Valley Development.”
Ethan's eyes narrowed.
“That's not a development company.”
“I know.”
“Who owns it?”
Clara looked directly at him.
“Your father's closest business partner.”
Ethan felt something cold settle in his stomach.
“Gideon Vale.”
“Yes.”
Gideon Vale had been his father's friend.
A wealthy cattleman.
A banker.
A man who had lent Ethan money when the ranch nearly failed after Samuel's death.
Ethan had trusted him.
Maybe too much.
Clara handed him another piece of paper.
A signature appeared at the bottom.
Samuel Cole.
Ethan read the words above it.
I will not sell.
Below that, another handwriting had been added.
Then you will regret it.
Ethan stared at the threat.
“Who wrote this?”
Clara shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Ethan folded the paper.
“We're going back to the ranch.”
Clara looked surprised.
“Your ranch?”
“Yes.”
“They'll be watching it.”
“I know.”
“Why go there?”
Ethan stood.
“Because if my father discovered what was happening, he must have left something behind.”
“And if they find us?”
Ethan checked his revolver.
“Then we'll find out how badly they want us dead.”
Four — The Man at Cedar Ridge
They reached Cedar Ridge Ranch shortly after sunrise.
Ethan entered through the north pasture.
The ranch looked peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Cattle grazed beyond the fence.
Smoke rose from the cookhouse chimney.
Men moved between the barns.
But Ethan noticed something immediately.
The main gate was open.
It was never open.
He dismounted.
Clara remained hidden behind the barn.
“Stay here.”
“I'm tired of hearing that.”
“So am I.”
Ethan walked toward the house.