Gideon Vale was sitting on the porch.
He wore a black coat despite the warm morning.
A silver watch chain crossed his vest.
He smiled when Ethan approached.
“There you are.”
Ethan stopped.
“Looking for me?”
“I heard about the cabin.”
Ethan's hand rested near his revolver.
“What happened?”
“Burned.”
“I know.”
Gideon studied him.
“Did you find anyone there?”
“No.”
Gideon smiled.
“Good.”
Ethan noticed the word.
Good.
Not sad.
Not surprised.
Good.
“You seem relieved.”
“Why wouldn't I be?”
“It was my father's cabin.”
Gideon's smile faded.
“Your father was a stubborn man.”
“So you knew about the cabin?”
“Everyone knew about it.”
“Did you know someone was living there?”
Gideon stood.
“No.”
Ethan stared at him.
“You're lying.”
Gideon's eyes hardened.
“You've been spending too much time alone.”
“And you've been spending too much time thinking I am still a boy.”
The silence between them stretched.
Then Gideon said:
“Your father made enemies.”
“So did you.”
Gideon laughed.
“I suppose I did.”
Ethan stepped closer.
“Where is Sheriff Mercer?”
“Town.”
“Convenient.”
“Ethan.”
Gideon's voice became softer.
“Whatever you've found, leave it alone.”
Ethan said nothing.
“Your father died because he wouldn't.”
The words struck harder than a bullet.
Ethan's face changed.
“What did you say?”
Gideon sighed.
“I shouldn't have said that.”
“You said my father died because he wouldn't leave something alone.”
“I said he made enemies.”
“No. You said something else.”
Gideon turned away.
Ethan grabbed his shoulder.
“Look at me.”
Gideon slowly turned.
For the first time, Ethan saw something behind the old man's eyes.
Fear.
Then Gideon whispered:
“Your father knew what they were doing.”
“Who?”
Gideon did not answer.
A gunshot cracked from the barn.
Ethan spun.
Clara screamed.
Gideon shouted:
“Get down!”
Another shot.
Then a horse bolted from behind the stable.
A man in a brown coat rode hard toward the south pasture.
Ethan ran for his horse.
Gideon shouted after him.
“Ethan! Don't chase him!”
Ethan ignored him.
The rider was carrying something.
A leather satchel.
The same kind his father had used.
Ethan mounted Red and gave chase.
Five — The Dead Man's Map
The rider led Ethan toward the old quarry.
Ethan gained ground.
The stranger fired backward.
The bullet struck the dirt beside Red's hoof.
Ethan kept riding.
At the quarry, the stranger abandoned his horse and ran into the rocks.
Ethan followed.
They climbed through a narrow passage.
Then the stranger turned.
He was young.
Twenty-five, perhaps.
A scar crossed his forehead.
“Stop!”
Ethan raised his revolver.
The man froze.
“Who are you?”
The stranger looked at him.
“Your father saved my life.”
Ethan lowered the gun slightly.
“What?”
“My name is Lucas Grant.”
“What was your business with my father?”
Lucas looked toward the ridge.
“They're coming.”
“Who?”
“Vale's men.”
Ethan grabbed him.
“You've got five seconds.”
Lucas pulled a folded map from his coat.
“Your father found a tunnel.”
Ethan stared at the map.
The drawing showed Cold Creek.
Underneath it was a series of lines leading beneath the valley.
“What is this?”
“Silver.”
Ethan frowned.
“There's no silver mine here.”
“There wasn't supposed to be.”
Lucas pointed at the map.
“Your father discovered an underground deposit. The problem was that the land above it belonged to twelve ranchers.”
“So they wanted the land.”
“Yes.”
“Why kill them?”
Lucas looked away.
“Because the ranchers refused to sell.”
Ethan remembered the journal.
The dead ranchers.
The land parcels.
Gideon Vale.
“Who controls the mine?”
“That's what your father was trying to discover.”
Lucas handed him another paper.
A list of names.
At the top:
Gideon Vale.
Below it:
Sheriff Wade Mercer.
Then several businessmen from Cedar Ridge.
And finally:
Samuel Cole.
Ethan stared.
“Why is my father on this list?”
Lucas answered quietly.
“Because they needed him.”
“For what?”
“He owned the largest piece of land over the eastern tunnel.”
Ethan folded the paper.
“You said my father saved your life.”
Lucas nodded.
“Four years ago, I worked for Vale.”
Ethan's eyes narrowed.
“I helped them move equipment into the valley.”
“Then why did you stop?”
“Your father caught me.”
“What happened?”
“He could have turned me over to the sheriff.”
“He didn't?”
“No.”
“What did he do?”
Lucas swallowed.
“He gave me money and told me to disappear.”
Ethan looked toward the distant mountains.
“Why?”
“Because he knew what they would do to anyone who talked.”
A voice echoed from below.
“Lucas!”
Lucas went pale.
“They're here.”
Ethan checked his ammunition.
“Then we move.”
Six — A Father's Last Message
Ethan and Lucas escaped through the western side of the quarry.
By sunset, they reached an abandoned schoolhouse.
Clara was waiting there.
She had found the place while escaping from Cedar Ridge.
When she saw Lucas, she raised her pistol.
“Who is he?”
“A witness.”
Lucas smiled bitterly.
“That's one word for it.”
Ethan showed Clara the map.
She studied it.
“My brother had something like this.”
“Where?”
“At his ranch.”
“Did you keep it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Mercer took everything after Daniel died.”
Ethan sat against the wall.
There was too much information.
Too many names.
Too many dead men.
His father's death had always been simple in his memory.
A heart attack.
An old man's heart finally giving out.
Now everything was changing.
Clara sat beside him.
“Ethan.”
“What?”
“You need to know something.”
He looked at her.
“I didn't come to your cabin by accident.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was looking for you.”
“Why?”
“Because your father told me to.”
Ethan stared at her.
“My father died four years ago.”
“I know.”
She reached into her coat.
She removed a letter.
The paper was yellowed.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
Samuel Cole.
Ethan's hands trembled as he took it.
The letter contained only a few lines.
Clara,
If you are reading this, then I am already gone.
Do not trust Mercer. Do not trust Vale.