“Darrenholt?”

“He was involved.”

Cole frowned.

“But your father confessed.”

“He signed a confession after they threatened my mother and me.”

Cole was silent.

Lila pulled a small brass key from beneath her collar.

“I was nineteen when they took him away. My mother died six months later. I spent years moving from town to town under different names because the men who destroyed my father never stopped searching for what he hid.”

“What did he hide?”

“A ledger.”

Cole looked at the key.

“Where is it?”

“I don’t know.”

His expression tightened.

“Then why are they after you?”

“Because they believe I can find it.”

Cole remembered her examining the map.

The questions about the creek.

The rider on the ridge.

“You came here looking for something.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks.

“Yes.”

“What?”

She swallowed.

“Your father once worked with mine.”

Cole stood motionless.

“That’s impossible.”

“They surveyed the northern water rights together. My father believed your father had discovered the same fraud.”

“My father died of fever.”

Lila looked away.

“What?”

She whispered, “That’s what they told you.”

Cole’s hands curled into fists.

“Tell me what you’re saying.”

“My father wrote that Thomas Bennett was investigating Darrenholt’s land claims. Three days later, your father died.”

Cole remembered that winter.

His father’s sudden illness.

The hurried funeral.

The doctor who left town almost immediately afterward.

An old memory began to twist into something monstrous.

“You think Darrenholt killed my father?”

“I think your father learned something he wasn’t supposed to know.”

Another gunshot cracked outside.

Cole drew his revolver.

For several seconds, he stared at Lila.

Then he said, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her voice broke.

“Because I didn’t know whether I could trust you.”

He looked wounded.

She stepped toward him.

“And because by the time I realized I could, I loved you.”

The words hung between them.

Beautiful.

Devastating.

Cole closed his eyes.

He had wanted to hear them for weeks.

Not like this.

Not while enemies approached his house.

But when he opened his eyes again, his decision was made.

“Whatever you were before you came here, you’re under my protection now.”

Lila began to cry.

“Cole—”

“And when this is finished, we’ll talk about everything else.”

He kissed her forehead.

Then he walked toward the door.

Chapter Six: The Night the Fences Burned

The first fire appeared near the north barn.

Flames leaped through the rain-soaked darkness, fed by oil poured over the hay.

Wade returned with six armed ranch hands.

“Darrenholt’s boys are spreading out,” he reported. “They want us divided.”

Cole buckled on his gun belt.

“How many?”

“At least fourteen.”

“Where’s Darrenholt?”

“Haven’t seen him.”

Cole looked at Lila.

“Stay inside.”

She shook her head.

“I know why they’re here. I can help.”

“You can help by surviving.”

“Cole—”

“Please.”

It was the word that stopped her.

Not an order.

A plea.

She nodded.

Cole turned to Wade.

“Take four men to the north barn. Keep the cattle from breaking through the fences. Nobody fires unless they’re fired upon.”

“And you?”

“I’ll meet our visitors.”

Wade looked doubtful.

“Alone?”

“Not entirely.”

Cole loaded his revolver.

“God’s got a better view of this than we do.”

Three riders approached the ranch house.

Their leader wore a black oilskin coat.

A long white scar marked his chin.

Cole recognized the description Wade had given him.

The man stopped thirty feet from the porch.

“Cole Bennett!”

Cole stepped into the rain.

“State your business.”

“My name’s Mercer.”

“Congratulations.”

Mercer smiled without humor.

“We’ve come for a woman.”

“Wrong ranch.”

“Auburn hair. Green eyes. Calls herself Dawson.”

Cole rested one hand near his revolver.

“Turn around.”

Mercer’s smile disappeared.

“You don’t understand who you’re protecting.”

“Then enlighten me.”

“That woman has stolen property belonging to important men.”

Cole stared at him.

“Funny. She says those men stole property from half the county.”

Mercer shifted in his saddle.

For the first time, he looked uncertain.

“Hand her over, Bennett. You don’t want this trouble.”

Cole stepped down from the porch.

His voice was calm.

Deadly calm.

“You crossed my fence armed, set fire to my barn, and threatened a woman under my roof. Trouble arrived a while ago.”

Mercer reached for his gun.

Cole drew first.

The shot shattered Mercer’s revolver before it cleared the holster.

The man screamed and dropped the weapon.

The other riders froze.

“Next one goes higher,” Cole warned.

Rain fell between them.

Mercer clutched his bleeding hand.

“You’ll regret this.”

“Get off my land.”

The riders retreated.

Cole watched them vanish into the darkness.

Then he heard something behind him.

A muffled cry.

He turned.

The front door stood open.

And Lila was gone.

Chapter Seven: The Empty Room

Cole reached the kitchen seconds later.

A chair lay overturned.

The rear door swung in the wind.

On the floor rested a broken hairpin.

Lila’s hairpin.

Cole picked it up.

His breath stopped.

“Lila?”

No answer.

He ran outside.

Fresh hoofprints marked the mud behind the kitchen.

Two horses.

One had struggled near the fence.

Cole followed the tracks to the orchard.

There, caught on a thornbush, hung a torn piece of Lila’s blue dress.

He ripped it free.

Something was written on the fabric in dark ink.

Three words.

OLD MILL. MIDNIGHT.

Cole stared.

Then he understood.

Lila had left him a message.

She was still fighting.

Still thinking.

Still alive.

For now.

Wade found him saddling Midnight.

“Boss, the fire’s contained.”

“They took her.”

Wade went pale.

“Who?”

“Mercer’s men.”

Cole handed him the fabric.

Wade read it.

“The old mill?”

“Yes.”

“That’s Darrenholt property.”

“Not tonight.”

Wade caught Cole’s arm.

“Listen to me. Charging into that place alone is suicide.”

Cole looked at him.

“Then come along.”

Wade’s expression changed.

He nodded.