“You sent me here?”

Daniel looked at Silas.

Silas’s expression promised murder.

“Yes.”

“The advertisement?”

“I wrote it.”

“Potter?”

“I paid him.”

Silas leaned forward.

“You used my name.”

“I knew she’d never come if I told her the truth.”

“You put a pregnant woman on a mountain road in November.”

“I put her with the only man I trusted.”

Silas grabbed Daniel by the shirt.

“You don’t get to call that trust.”

Lydia stepped closer.

“Why?”

Daniel looked at her.

“Because Gideon Vale had men watching you.”

A silence fell.

Daniel continued.

“They thought I had given you the original records.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Then why follow me?”

“Because Vale didn’t believe me.”

Lydia glanced at the ledgers.

“What are these?”

“Copies.”

Silas swore.

Daniel nodded.

“They can cause trouble. They can’t convict him.”

“Where are the originals?”

Daniel stared at Lydia’s battered satchel.

She followed his gaze.

“No.”

Daniel closed his eyes.

“Oh, Daniel.”

Lydia dragged the bag across the floor.

“What did you do?”

“Cut the lining.”

She tore at it.

Silas handed her a knife.

Between two layers of fabric was a thin packet wrapped in oilcloth.

Inside were original mortgage documents.

County seals.

Bank transfer orders.

Signatures.

Dozens of them.

Enough evidence to destroy half the respectable men in Hollow Creek.

Lydia stared at Daniel.

“You made me carry these?”

“You were leaving town anyway.”

“You made your pregnant wife carry evidence men were willing to kill for?”

“I thought they were watching the roads east.”

“You thought.”

Daniel looked ashamed.

“I was wrong.”

Silas moved toward him.

Lydia held up one hand.

“No.”

Silas stopped.

She looked down at Daniel.

“Where is Gideon Vale?”

Daniel’s eyes shifted toward the window.

“Coming.”

“When?”

“By daylight.”

Silas picked up his rifle.

“Then he won’t leave.”

Daniel grabbed his arm.

“You don’t understand.”

“What?”

“Vale isn’t the only one coming.”

“How many?”

Daniel looked at Lydia.

“Six, maybe eight.”

The cabin fell silent.

Outside, snow kept falling.

Silas wanted Lydia hidden in an old trapping shelter half a mile uphill.

Lydia refused.

“You can barely walk through that snow,” he said.

“I can walk.”

“You’re eight months pregnant.”

“I am painfully aware.”

“This isn’t pride.”

“No. It’s my life.”

Daniel sat near the fire, pale from blood loss.

“Listen to him, Lydia.”

She spun around.

“You have forfeited the privilege of telling me what to do.”

Daniel looked down.

Silas almost smiled.

Lydia spread the original documents across the table.

“If Vale gets these, every family named here loses the only proof of what happened.”

Daniel nodded.

“Probably.”

“Then why hasn’t he simply destroyed the county records?”

“He has.”

Lydia looked up.

“What?”

“Courthouse fire in September.”

She remembered.

Half the property office had burned.

Everyone called it an accident.

Daniel laughed bitterly.

“Vale’s good at fires.”

Silas studied the papers.

“There has to be another copy.”

Daniel looked toward him.

“There is.”

“Where?”

Daniel’s mouth tightened.

“Fort Collins federal land office.”

Lydia frowned.

“Then why does Vale care about these?”

“Because those records only establish ownership. These establish fraud.”

Daniel pointed toward the signatures.

“They prove Vale ordered the transfers.”

Silas glanced at the window.

“Then we’ll get them to a federal judge.”

“If we survive the morning.”

Daniel leaned back.

Lydia watched him.

Something was wrong.

Not with his wound.

With his story.

She had lived with Daniel for three years.

He lied beautifully.

That was the problem.

He always gave too much detail when he wanted to be believed.