Tears filled her eyes long before she reached the end.
“I didn’t know.”
Caleb’s laugh was bitter.
“You married him.”
“I said I didn’t know.”
“How convenient.”
She snapped her gaze upward.
“You think I’m lying?”
“I think rich families become skilled at not knowing what pays for their houses.”
Her face changed.
Pain became anger.
“Do you imagine wealth protects women from lies?”
Caleb said nothing.
“My father chose Nathaniel.”
“You still married him.”
“Yes.”
“And loved him?”
Evelyn looked down.
“That is more complicated.”
“Usually means yes.”
She folded the statement.
“We were married four years.”
“Did you love him?”
“Sometimes.”
Caleb was not prepared for the answer.
Evelyn continued.
“Nathaniel was not an easy man. He carried guilt like a sickness. He disappeared for days. Lied about meetings. Hid papers. Woke screaming some nights.”
Caleb’s throat tightened.
“He never told me why.”
“Maybe he was afraid.”
“Of what?”
Caleb’s voice turned cold.
“Of facing what he’d helped create.”
Evelyn looked at him.
Then she whispered, “He died three weeks ago.”
Caleb froze.
“What?”
“Murdered.”
More memory returned as she spoke.
“He was found near a warehouse in Chicago. Shot twice. The police called it robbery, but nothing was taken.”
She touched the satchel.
“Before he died, he sent me a letter telling me where these documents were hidden.”
Caleb felt the shape of the danger sharpen.
“He knew someone was after him.”
“Yes.”
“And you decided to take the evidence to Helena?”
“I think so.”
She pressed her fingertips to her temple.
“I remember boarding the coach. I remember an older woman offering me peppermints.”
Her breathing changed.
“Then…the gunshots.”
Caleb leaned closer.
“Anything else?”
“A voice.”
“Whose?”
She looked at him.
“I don’t know.”
But her face said otherwise.
Caleb saw it.
“You do.”
“No.”
“Evelyn.”
“I said I don’t.”
She turned away.
Caleb grabbed her wrist.
Instantly, she spun and slapped him.
The sound cracked through the cabin.
They stared at each other.
Caleb released her.
“Don’t grab me again.”
He nodded once.
Evelyn’s chest rose and fell rapidly.
Then she whispered, “The man outside the coach called me by name.”
Caleb waited.
“And?”
“He said…”
She closed her eyes.
“Your husband should have taught you when to leave buried things buried.”
Caleb felt his stomach drop.
That was not the worst part.
Evelyn opened her eyes.
“I knew his voice.”
“Who?”
“I still can’t remember his face.”
Caleb studied her.
Someone close enough that she knew the voice.
Family?
Business associate?
Servant?
Then came a sound from outside.
A horse.
Caleb extinguished the lamp in one motion.
“Get down.”
Evelyn obeyed.
Hoofbeats approached.
Not one horse.
Three.
Caleb moved beside the window.
Riders stopped outside.
A man called, “Ward!”
Caleb recognized the voice.
Sheriff Eli Mercer.
He relaxed half an inch.
Then remembered the ledger.
Payments.
Sheriffs.
Judges.
Caleb looked toward Evelyn.
“Stay out of sight.”
He opened the door.
Sheriff Mercer sat astride a gray horse.
Two deputies flanked him.
Mercer smiled.
“Caleb.”
“Sheriff.”
“Heard about the coach.”
“Fast.”
“Mail route missed Mercy Creek. We sent men searching.”
Mercer’s gaze moved past Caleb.
“Find survivors?”
“No.”
Evelyn shifted inside.
A floorboard creaked.
Mercer’s smile changed.
“Funny.”
Caleb’s hand rested near his revolver.
“What is?”
“Someone in town claims a woman survived.”
“Who?”
Mercer shrugged.
“Traveler came through this morning.”
“What traveler?”
“Didn’t get his name.”
Caleb now knew with certainty.
The stranger watching the cabin had been feeding information to someone.
Mercer leaned forward.
“We should search the place.”
“No.”
Sheriff Mercer’s smile vanished.
“That wasn’t a request.”
The deputies dismounted.
Caleb stepped into the doorway.
“There’s a law in Montana requiring warrants now.”
