The cabin stood between two red cliffs in a grove of juniper, invisible from the main trail.

Inside, Caleb lit a lamp and gave Ruth water.

She drank three cups.

Then she sat near the wall wrapped in Caleb’s coat, watching him bind the rider to a chair.

The man had regained consciousness.

His nose was crooked now.

Caleb crouched in front of him.

“Name.”

The man spat blood.

Caleb waited.

“Name.”

“Ephraim Pike.”

“You work for Silas Crane?”

Pike laughed softly.

“Everybody works for Crane.”

Ruth closed her eyes.

Caleb glanced at her.

Pike noticed.

“That little thief tell you stories?”

Caleb punched him once.

Not hard.

Just enough to silence him.

“I ask questions.”

Pike leaned forward as far as the ropes allowed.

“You think you found some poor kidnapped girl? That’s what she wants you to believe.”

Ruth rose.

“Shut up.”

Pike grinned.

“There she is.”

Caleb turned.

Ruth was shaking.

Not with fear.

With rage.

“Tell him what you stole,” Pike said.

Ruth stepped forward.

Caleb held up a hand.

“That enough.”

“No.” Ruth’s voice cracked. “He’s right.”

Caleb studied her.

She removed his coat.

Then she ripped away another section of her dress lining.

Three more folded pages fell to the floor.

Caleb stared.

“There’s more?”

“Much more.”

She gathered them.

“My family sold me to Silas Crane when I was fifteen.”

Pike laughed.

“Your daddy signed legal papers.”

Ruth ignored him.

“Crane said I’d work in a hotel. Said I’d send money home.”

Her mouth twisted.

“There was no hotel.”

Caleb stood motionless.

Ruth continued.

“There were houses in three territories. Girls moved between them. Some escaped. Some died. Some disappeared somewhere worse.”

“How many?”

“I don’t know.”

“Guess.”

She looked him in the eye.

“Hundreds.”

Pike smiled.

“And nobody cares.”

The words settled in the room like poison.

Ruth turned toward Caleb.

“For four years I cleaned rooms, served drinks, did whatever kept them from locking me downstairs. Eventually Crane stopped seeing me as dangerous. He let me work near the office.”

“You stole the ledger.”

“Pages from it.”

“Why not the whole book?”

“Because he counts everything.”

Her voice became bitter.

“Women. Horses. Whiskey. Bullets. He knows exactly what he owns.”

Caleb looked at Pike.

“And where is Crane now?”

Pike said nothing.

Caleb reached into his pocket and placed the silver crane token on the table.

Ruth pointed to it.

“That’s admission to the auction rooms.”

Caleb looked up sharply.

“What auction?”

She swallowed.

“Tomorrow night.”

“Where?”

“Redstone Flats.”

Caleb stared at her.

Redstone Flats had two churches, a schoolhouse, a courthouse, four saloons, and a population that boasted endlessly about civilization.

He had passed through twice.

He remembered respectable women carrying parasols.

Children playing outside the mercantile.

The sheriff shaking hands with ranchers.

Ruth’s voice became almost a whisper.

“Under the opera house.”

At dawn, Pike was gone.

The ropes remained around the chair.

One window stood open.

Caleb found blood on the sill.

Ruth woke to find him outside studying the tracks.

“He escaped?”

Caleb nodded.

“How?”

“Someone helped him.”

Her face drained.

“Someone followed us?”

“No tracks coming in.”

Caleb looked toward his own horse.

Then toward Ruth’s.

“A third person was already here.”

Ruth stepped back.