This time it was Samuel Bennett’s stable.
Nobody died.
That was the message.
Ward could have killed Samuel.
Instead, he burned a building beside his house while Samuel’s grandchildren slept inside.
Fear was more useful when it had imagination.
By sunrise, half the men who had gathered at Luke’s ranch the previous day had changed their minds.
One rancher refused to answer his door.
The shopkeeper claimed he remembered nothing.
Sarah Delaney sent word that her family was leaving Wyoming.
Luke understood.
He did not judge them.
Courage was easy to praise when somebody else’s children were at risk.
Clara stood near the burned stable with her arms wrapped around herself.
“He knows people are talking.”
Luke nodded.
“He’ll destroy that ledger.”
“Then we need it now.”
Luke looked toward the distant hills where Ward’s ranch sat.
“We’d have to enter his house.”
“Yes.”
“With armed guards.”
“Yes.”
“Do you hear yourself?”
Clara turned.
“I lived there two years.”
“Which is exactly why I know what he’ll do if he catches you.”
“And exactly why I know how to get inside.”
Luke rubbed a hand over his face.
“This is a terrible idea.”
“It’s the only idea.”
Luke hated that she was right.
Ward’s ranch house was built against the base of a rocky slope, surrounded by barns, bunkhouses, corrals, and enough employees to form a small army.
Clara knew a servant entrance on the eastern side.
More importantly, she knew something Ward’s men did not.
The old pantry wall contained a narrow passage built decades earlier when the house had served as a trading post.
Ward used it to move discreetly between his office and dining room.
Clara had discovered it accidentally.
“If we enter after midnight,” she explained, “we can reach the office without crossing the main hall.”
Luke stared at her.
“We?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Clara gave him a look.
Luke sighed.
“Right. I said I’d stop doing that.”
“You’re learning.”
“I hate learning.”
That evening, they prepared.
Luke gave Clara a dark coat.
She strapped his spare revolver beneath it.
“Only if necessary,” Luke said.
“I know.”
“You stay behind me.”
“Unless I know where we’re going.”
He frowned.
She smiled.
“You really don’t like this.”
“I would rather wrestle the bull that gored me.”
“Maybe afterward.”
They left near midnight.
Snowmelt had turned the road muddy.
They abandoned their horses half a mile from Ward’s ranch and approached through trees.
Lights burned in the bunkhouse.
Two guards patrolled outside.
Clara led Luke along a dry creek bed to the eastern wall.
A cellar window sat partly hidden behind stacked wood.
She removed a loose stone.
A key rested behind it.
Luke stared.
“You kept a key hidden here?”
“I planned to run more than once.”
“What stopped you?”
Clara’s fingers tightened around the key.
“Fear.”
Luke said nothing.
She unlocked the cellar.
Inside, the smell of earth and old wine surrounded them.
Clara moved through darkness from memory.
Up a staircase.
Past storage rooms.
Into the pantry.
She pressed against a wooden panel.
Nothing.
Again.
The hidden door opened.
Luke raised his eyebrows.
“I’m impressed.”
“I hated this house enough to learn every inch of it.”
They entered the passage.
The corridor was narrow.
At the end stood another panel.
Clara pressed her ear against it.
Silence.
She opened it.
Ward’s office looked exactly as she remembered.
Large desk.
Bookshelves.
Leather chairs.
A portrait of Preston Ward hanging above the fireplace as if the house itself were required to admire him.
Luke searched the desk.
“Nothing.”
Clara crossed to the fireplace.
“The ledger wasn’t in the desk.”
“Where?”
She touched the wooden molding beside Ward’s portrait.
A hidden compartment clicked open.
Inside was a black leather book.
Luke stared.
“Clara.”
She took it.
Her hands trembled.
“We have him.”
Then footsteps sounded outside.
Luke extinguished the lantern.
Voices approached.
Ward.
And Sheriff Brady.
Luke and Clara slipped into the hidden passage but left the panel barely open.
Ward entered.
“I told you to control the town,” he snapped.
Brady replied, “Carver stirred them up.”
“Then arrest him.”
“For what?”
Ward laughed.
“Since when have you required a reason?”
Luke looked at Clara.
Her face hardened.
Brady lowered his voice.
“The marshal is coming.”
“When?”
“Four days.”
Ward swore.
“What does Reeves know?”
“Not much yet.”
“Then he never gets here.”
Luke’s blood went cold.
Ward intended to kill a federal marshal.
Brady said, “That’s too far.”
“You lost the right to morality when you took my first payment.”
Clara held the ledger against her chest.
There it was.
Everything.
Brady had been bought.
Ward continued.
“And find Clara.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
“What about Carver?”
Ward’s voice turned quiet.
“Burn the cabin with him inside.”
Clara’s breath caught.
Luke placed a finger to his lips.
Ward and Brady left several minutes later.
Luke waited.
Then whispered, “We go now.”
They returned through the passage.
Outside, the guards had changed positions.
One man noticed movement.
“Hey!”
Luke grabbed Clara’s hand.
“Run.”
A shot struck the cellar frame.
They sprinted toward the creek bed.
Men shouted behind them.
Their horses were still half a mile away.
Luke shoved the ledger beneath Clara’s coat.
“If we separate—”
“No.”
“Listen.”
“No.”
“Clara.”
She stopped.
His hands closed around her shoulders.
“If they catch me, you ride north to Bennett’s place. Give Samuel that book.”
“What about you?”
“You keep riding.”
“I won’t.”
“You asked me to respect your choices.”
She stared at him.
“Then respect mine.”
Gunfire cracked behind them.
They ran.
They reached the horses barely ahead of Ward’s men.
Luke helped Clara mount.
A rider appeared from the trees.
Luke fired.
The man ducked.
Another bullet struck Luke’s shoulder.
He spun.
“Luke!”
“I’m fine!”
He was not fine.
Blood immediately darkened his shirt.
Clara grabbed his reins.
“Ride!”
They raced north.
Ward’s riders followed.
The chase continued through darkness.
Luke began slipping in the saddle.
Clara saw it.
“Stay with me!”
“Still here.”
“You’re lying.”
“Probably.”
She led them off the main trail and into a rocky ravine.
Ward’s men overshot the turn.
Clara and Luke hid beneath an overhang until the hoofbeats faded.
Luke nearly fell when dismounting.
Clara caught him.
The strange reversal almost made her laugh.
The man who had once held her upright was now leaning against her.
“Your cabin,” she said.
“No. They’ll go there.”
“Samuel’s?”
“Too obvious.”
“Then where?”
Luke looked toward the mountains.
“My brother and I used an old line shack during cattle drives.”
“How far?”
“Six miles.”
“Can you make it?”
“No.”
Clara stared.
Luke managed a weak smile.
“But apparently you’re bossy now.”
“Get on the horse.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They reached the shack before dawn.
Clara helped Luke inside.
His shoulder wound was painful but the bullet had passed through.
She heated water.
Luke watched her prepare bandages.
“You know what you’re doing?”
“I watched a certain stubborn cowboy stitch my leg.”
“That cowboy sounds handsome.”
“Delusional.”
She cut his shirt away from the wound.
Luke winced.
“This is going to hurt,” she said.
“Where have I heard that?”
Clara poured whiskey onto a cloth.
Luke’s eyes widened.
“Wait—”
She pressed it against him.
Luke swore.
Clara smiled.
“Feels different from this side, doesn’t it?”
“You enjoyed that.”
“A little.”
Their eyes met.
For a moment, fear disappeared.
Then Luke’s expression changed.
“Clara.”
She stopped.
His hand lifted toward her face, but he did not touch her.
“May I?”
Her breath caught.
Nobody had ever asked permission to touch her cheek.
“Yes.”
Luke’s fingers brushed a loose strand of hair away.
Clara leaned into his palm.
The tenderness of it nearly broke them both.
Luke whispered, “I thought they were going to take you.”
“They didn’t.”
“I thought I was going to lose you.”
“You didn’t.”
His eyes moved to her lips.
This time he did not look away.
Neither did she.
Clara closed the distance first.
Their kiss was gentle.
Nothing demanded.
Nothing taken.
Just two frightened people discovering that trust could become something warmer.
When they separated, Luke rested his forehead against hers.
“I’ve wanted to do that for days.”
“I know.”
“You knew?”
“You’re not subtle.”
“I live alone.”
“It shows.”
He almost laughed.
Then Clara’s expression became serious.
“Luke, if we survive this—”
“When.”
“What?”
“When we survive.”
She smiled.
“When we survive this, I don’t want to go back to being afraid.”
“You won’t.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“No.”
Luke looked at her.
“But I can promise you won’t face it alone.”
The black ledger lay on the table beside them.
Inside it were years of crimes.
Bribes.
Land theft.
Payments connected to intimidation.
And on one page, Luke found an entry dated three days before Matt’s death.
E. Mercer — $200 — Carver matter settled.
Luke stared at the words.
Clara covered his hand with hers.
“I’m sorry.”
Luke closed the ledger.
For three years, he had imagined killing the man responsible.
Now the proof was inches from his hand.
And strangely, revenge no longer felt like enough.
Matt deserved more.
Everyone Ward had hurt deserved more.
They deserved the truth exposed publicly.
“We get this to Marshal Reeves,” Luke said.
Clara nodded.
Outside, dawn slowly reached the mountains.
But neither knew that Preston Ward had already discovered the missing ledger.
And Ward had sent six men north with a single order.
Find Clara Hale.
Recover the book.
Leave no witnesses.