Caleb smiled grimly.
“I knew you were reasonable.”
“I am already regretting this.”
They never reached Denver.
Twenty miles outside Oakhaven, the train stopped.
Snow had buried the track ahead.
Passengers groaned.
Railroad workers rushed outside.
Then Caleb noticed a man stepping off the rear carriage.
A man wearing a gray coat.
He had been watching them since the station.
Caleb grabbed Bee’s hand.
“Come.”
“What—”
“Now.”
They moved through the baggage car.
Another man appeared at the opposite end.
Gray coat.
Bee understood.
“Harker?”
“Likely.”
Caleb kicked open the side door.
“Jump.”
“Are you insane?”
“Frequently.”
They leapt into deep snow.
Behind them, someone shouted.
Caleb nearly collapsed when his wounded arm struck the ground.
Bee hauled him upright.
“You are the worst traveling companion I have ever had.”
“Run.”
They reached a stand of pines before gunfire cracked behind them.
Snow burst from a trunk.
Caleb drew his revolver.
They scrambled downhill.
The second shot passed close enough for Bee to hear it hiss.
At the bottom of the slope stood an abandoned trapper’s shed.
They ducked inside.
Caleb braced the door with a broken chair.
Bee was breathing hard.
“Why do men always begin shooting when paperwork becomes inconvenient?”
Caleb laughed despite himself.
“You truly are extraordinary.”
“This would be a lovely time to save compliments.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“If we’re about to die, I prefer not to waste honesty.”
Her face changed.
“Caleb.”
“You came into my house for seventy-five dollars.”
“Fifty.”
“What?”
“I only took fifty.”
“Then this is considerably more embarrassing.”
Despite danger, she laughed.
He reached for her hand.
“Bee, I spent ten years building walls because I believed anyone close enough to matter could leave.”
Outside, branches snapped.
Their pursuers were approaching.
He continued quickly.
“Then you walked into Ridge View, insulted my kitchen, ordered me to light fires in my own house, struck a traitor with a poker, and somehow made twenty-four hours feel more like a home than the previous ten years.”
Tears appeared in her eyes.
“That is an absurd declaration.”
“I haven’t finished.”
“You may not have time.”
“I know.”
He stepped closer.
“If we live, do not disappear.”
Her breath caught.
“If we live,” she whispered, “ask me again when no one is shooting at us.”
“Deal.”
The door burst inward.
Caleb fired.
One attacker fell backward.
The other entered from the side window.
Bee grabbed the nearest object.
An iron skillet hanging from a nail.
The man turned.
The skillet struck his temple with a clang loud enough to silence the room.
He dropped.
Caleb stared at her.
She stared at the skillet.
“I told you I bring my own cast iron.”
The surviving gunman carried a telegram.
It contained one line.
BELL GIRL HAS LEDGER. STOP HER BEFORE DENVER.
Bee read it.
“What ledger?”
Caleb frowned.
“You don’t have one?”
“No.”
Then both froze.
Her father’s ledger.
Bee had always believed the evidence had been lost.
But Harker believed she possessed it.
Why?
She stared toward the snowy mountains.
“Because Pendleton told him.”
“Told him what?”
“That I recognized the mineral-rights clause.”
Caleb understood.
“They assumed you had your father’s records.”
“Which means they still fear those records exist.”
They returned to Oakhaven instead of continuing to Denver.
