Fort Laramie was not the sanctuary Martha imagined.
It was safe compared with the open trail, but safety had degrees.
Soldiers guarded the entrances.
Rifles appeared at windows after sunset.
Supply shortages had left shelves thin.
Two children were sick in the infirmary.
A cavalryman had an infected wound.
The fort surgeon nearly embraced Boon when he learned the medicine had survived.
Martha watched men pry up the hidden boards beneath the freight wagon.
Crates appeared one after another.
Quinine.
Bandages.
Laudanum.
Tinctures.
Medical alcohol.
Surgical instruments.
“Why hide all this?” she asked.
Boon leaned against the wagon.
“Because three freight loads vanished in two months.”
“You knew someone might try to steal yours.”
“Yes.”
“And still came alone?”
“Wasn’t alone.”
Martha looked at him.
He nodded toward her.
“You were for most of the trip.”
“Details.”
She shook her head.
Boon Mercer was perhaps the most stubborn man she had ever met.
Considering she had known Jeb, that was impressive.
Captain Hayes entered the courtyard.
“We found one of Crowe’s riders.”
Boon straightened.
“Alive?”
“Barely.”
“Talking?”
“Not yet.”
Martha saw the change come over him again.
Every mention of Silas reopened the wound.
That evening she found Boon outside the stable sharpening a knife.
“You plan to wear that blade down to nothing?”
He continued.
“Martha.”
“That’s my name.”
“You should be resting.”
“And you should stop telling me what to do.”
“You nearly went into labor two days ago.”
“The surgeon says I’m fine.”
“The surgeon also said stay quiet.”
“I am quiet.”
“You’ve been talking for five minutes.”
She sat beside him.
Boon put down the knife.
“What do you want?”
“The truth.”
“About?”
“You.”
He looked tired.
“You already know enough.”
“I know your wife and son died. I know Silas stole medicine. I know you believed he died six years ago.”
She paused.
“I also know Captain Hayes looked at you like a man he’d sent into danger before.”
Boon stared at the knife.
“I was an Army scout.”
Martha waited.
“After Clara and Samuel died, I went after Crowe.”
“Alone?”
“At first.”
Of course.
“I found him.”
“But he escaped.”
“Yes.”
Boon’s jaw tightened.
“He had a camp along the river. Men working for him. We exchanged fire. Crowe fell into the water.”
“You searched?”
“For three days.”
“And then?”
“I stopped being useful to anyone.”
Martha understood that too well.
“What does that mean?”
“I drank.”
His answer was blunt.
“Fought.”
A pause.
“Nearly shot a man who didn’t deserve it.”
Martha said nothing.
“Captain Hayes got me out.”
“Why?”
“He knew Clara.”
Boon picked up the blade again but did not resume sharpening.
“I left the Army. Built the cabin. Started hauling freight.”
“And spent six years alone.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He finally looked at her.
“You know why.”
Martha did.
Because loving again would mean creating another thing the world could take.
She looked at her stomach.
“I almost didn’t continue west.”
Boon waited.
“After I buried Jeb.”
Her voice softened.
“I sat beside the grave until dark. I thought maybe I could just stay.”
Boon’s expression changed.
“What stopped you?”
“The baby kicked.”
Martha smiled sadly.
“Hard enough to hurt.”
She wiped at her eye.
“Felt like someone knocking from inside, reminding me I wasn’t allowed to quit.”
Boon’s voice grew rough.
“Good.”
“Some days I resented it.”
He looked surprised.
Martha continued before guilt could stop her.
“Not the baby. The responsibility.”
She pressed a hand to her stomach.
“I wanted permission to fall apart. But there was always water to find, food to cook, animals to tend.”
Boon nodded slowly.
“Survival doesn’t leave much time for grief.”
“No.”
“Maybe that’s why it catches up later.”
Martha looked at him.
“When did yours catch you?”
“Never stopped.”
They sat in silence.
This time it felt different.
Not empty.
Shared.
The next morning, the captured rider spoke.
His name was Harris.
Martha was not allowed into the interrogation room.
That did not stop her from standing outside.
Boon emerged after twenty minutes.
“What?”
“Crowe’s camp is twelve miles north.”
“How many men?”
“At least fourteen.”
She swore.
Boon looked at her.
“What?”
“Jeb hated when I swore.”
“I’m beginning to like Jeb.”
She almost smiled.
Captain Hayes came out.
“There’s more.”
Martha waited.
Hayes looked uneasy.
“Crowe has prisoners.”
Boon’s expression sharpened.
“How many?”
“Six, maybe seven.”
“From the missing wagons?”
“Likely.”
Martha’s blood ran cold.
“Children?”
Hayes hesitated.
“One.”
That settled something inside her.
“We go.”
Boon turned.
“No.”
Martha glared.
“We?”
“No.”
“There is a child there.”
“And you are seven months pregnant.”
“You keep mentioning that as if I misplaced the information.”
“Martha.”
“Boon.”
Hayes looked between them.
“I’ll leave you two to murder each other.”
He walked away.
Boon stepped closer.
“You cannot ride into a gunfight.”
“I’m not asking to.”
“Then what are you asking?”
“To help.”
“How?”
Martha considered.
“Does Crowe know the fort has the medicine?”
“He knows we made it.”
“Does he know where you hid it?”
“No.”
“Then make him think we’re moving it.”
Boon stared.
Martha continued.
“Send an empty wagon north with soldiers hidden inside. Let Crowe attack what he thinks is the shipment.”
Boon’s expression changed.
“Draw his men away from camp.”
“Yes.”
“And a second group circles around for prisoners.”
Martha nodded.
“That.”
Boon’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
“You’ve done this before?”
“No.”
“Should worry me.”
“Probably.”
Captain Hayes approved the plan within an hour.
Boon hated it.
Not because it was bad.
Because Martha had thought of it.
And now she insisted on helping prepare the wagon.
She filled crates with rocks.
Marked them similarly to the medical crates.
Boon watched.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
“You have concerning instincts.”
“I traveled with Jeb.”
“What did Jeb do?”
“He sold farm equipment.”
Boon stared.
“That explains nothing.”
“Exactly.”
The decoy left shortly before dusk.
Six soldiers rode concealed inside.
Hayes led another group around the hills.
Boon went with them.
Martha remained at the fort.
That had been the condition.
Boon stood beside her before mounting.
“You stay here.”
“Yes.”
“You stay inside after dark.”
“Yes.”
“You do not follow us.”
Martha sighed.
“Yes.”
Boon studied her suspiciously.
“You’re agreeing too easily.”
“I know when to be sensible.”
“No evidence of that.”
She smiled.
Then her expression softened.
“Come back.”
Boon’s face became unreadable.
“I’ll try.”
“Don’t try.”
She touched his sleeve.
“Come back.”
His gaze dropped to her hand.
For one dangerous moment, Martha wanted him to kiss her.
The thought shocked her.
Jeb had been gone less than two months.
She pulled her hand away.
Boon climbed onto his horse.
“Martha.”
“Yes?”
“If anything happens—”
“Nothing’s happening.”
He recognized his own words.
A faint smile appeared.
Then he rode away.
Night fell.
Martha waited.
One hour.
Two.
Three.
Gunfire echoed faintly from the northern hills.
The entire fort froze.
Martha stood on the porch outside the infirmary.
Another distant volley.
Then silence.
Too much silence.
Captain Hayes’s lieutenant ordered everyone indoors.
Martha refused until the doctor threatened to physically move her.
Near midnight, riders appeared.
The gate opened.
Soldiers entered.
Two wounded.
Then prisoners.
A woman.
Two men.
Another woman.
A teenage boy.
And a little girl wrapped in a cavalry coat.
Martha searched the returning faces.
No Boon.
Captain Hayes rode in last.
Martha moved toward him.
“Where is he?”
Hayes dismounted.
“Martha.”
Her stomach dropped.
“Where is Boon?”
“He followed Crowe.”
“Alone?”
“Crowe broke west with two riders.”
“And you let Boon follow?”
“Mercer doesn’t take permission.”
Martha felt furious enough to strike someone.
“Which direction?”
Hayes frowned.
“You are staying here.”
She laughed once.
Sharp.
“Every man in this territory seems addicted to telling me that.”
“Martha.”
“I asked which direction.”
Hayes lowered his voice.
“You can barely ride.”
“I can drive.”
“No.”
A soldier shouted from the gate.
Everyone turned.
One horse approached.
Rider slumped.
Not Boon.
One of Crowe’s men.
The horse stumbled through the entrance.
The rider fell.
He was bleeding heavily.
Before losing consciousness, he grabbed Captain Hayes’s sleeve.
“Mercer…”
Martha stepped closer.
“What about him?”
The man coughed.
“Crowe took him.”
Martha’s world tilted.
“Alive?”
The wounded man smiled through bloody teeth.
“For now.”