By the end of the first week, Ruth understood why Thomas had chosen the southern creek land.
It was valuable.
More valuable than she had first realized.
The water ran even when neighboring streams narrowed. The pasture grass grew thick beneath the cottonwoods. A natural rise on the eastern section protected cattle during winter storms.
Silas estimated that eighty acres alone could eventually support far more than Thomas's twenty cows.
Which explained Ephraim Cole.
"He doesn't care about two hundred dollars," Ruth said.
She stood at Silas's kitchen table surrounded by ledgers.
Silas sat opposite her.
"He wants the water."
"Exactly."
It was past midnight.
Anna slept upstairs.
The cabin repairs had begun, but Ruth and Anna still stayed at Silas's house because the roof remained partly open.
Ruth had initially resisted.
Then snow appeared over the mountains.
Practicality defeated pride.
She had spent the last five nights studying Thomas's business papers.
The alleged bank note did not fit.
Thomas recorded everything.
Every calf.
Every purchase.
Every fence post.
He once entered "three cents—nails" in a ledger.
Yet nowhere was there a two-hundred-twelve-dollar loan.
"Maybe he borrowed it personally," Ruth said.
Silas shook his head.
"He would have told me."
"You've already taught me that Thomas had a talent for not telling people things."
Silas winced.
"Fair."
Ruth rubbed her eyes.
"Let's start again."
"We've started again four times."
"Then perhaps the fifth will be lucky."
Silas leaned back.
"You are stubborn."
"So I've been told."
"Thomas?"
"Frequently."
Silas smiled.
Silence settled.
Comfortable silence.
That frightened Ruth.
She had become accustomed to Silas's presence too quickly.
He was steady in precisely the way people claimed.
When he said he would repair the roof, boards appeared.
When he promised to check the south fence, he did.
When Anna asked him whether horses became cold at night, he spent twenty minutes explaining winter coats rather than laughing at her.
And every morning, he somehow left the last spoonful of apple preserves untouched because he had noticed Anna liked them.
Ruth noticed that too.
She noticed too much.
The angle of his shoulders when he carried lumber.
The gray beginning at his temples.
The way he spoke more softly to animals than people.
The way loneliness lived inside his house even though he never named it.
She hated herself for seeing these things.
Thomas had been dead thirteen months.
Some days it felt thirteen years.
Other days thirteen minutes.
She did not know when noticing another man stopped being betrayal.
So she returned to the ledger.
"This entry."
Silas leaned closer.
Their shoulders nearly touched.
Ruth went still.
Silas did too.
Then both moved slightly apart.
"What entry?"
Ruth pointed.
"June seventeenth. Thomas wrote, 'Cole—discussion south water, refused.'"
Silas frowned.
"I remember."
"What happened?"
"Ephraim wanted to buy access to the creek."
"Why?"
"He'd purchased land east of here. Dry country."
"And Thomas refused?"
"Immediately."
Ruth turned the page.
"Two weeks later: 'Cole again. No.'"
Silas's expression hardened.
"That explains motive."
"Not the signature."
"No."
Ruth stared at the writing.
A thought came.
"Who witnessed the bank note?"
Silas reached for the copy Cole had eventually provided.
"Deputy clerk named Henry Vale."
"Still in town?"
"He left last winter."
"Convenient."
Ruth kept reading.
Then stopped.
"Silas."
"Hm?"
"What?"
She held Thomas's ledger beside the alleged note.
"The date."
Silas looked.
"September third."
"Thomas was not in town September third."
Silas frowned.
"How do you know?"
Ruth's hand began to shake.
"Because Anna had scarlet fever."
Memory hit with painful clarity.
Anna burning with fever.
Thomas beside her bed.
Ruth praying through the night.
"He didn't leave the house for six days."
"Could he have ridden to Cole's bank briefly?"
"No."
"Ruth—"
"No. I remember because I begged him to sleep and he wouldn't. On September third, Thomas was sitting beside Anna from sunrise until midnight."
Silas stood.
"Can anyone else verify?"
"Doctor Hayes came twice."
Silas reached for his coat.
Ruth stared.
"Where are you going?"
"To wake Doctor Hayes."
"At midnight?"
"Yes."
She almost laughed.
"Tomorrow."
Silas looked reluctant.
"Tomorrow," she repeated.
He sat.
Ruth smiled.
"Painfully steady."
"I dislike that expression."
"Everyone uses it."
"Everyone should stop."
By noon the next day, Doctor Hayes had signed a statement confirming Thomas Bellamy had been at home caring for his sick daughter on September third.
It should have ended the matter.
Instead, Ephraim Cole laughed.
They stood inside the bank.
"Your evidence proves nothing."
"It proves he wasn't here," Ruth said.
Cole folded the doctor's statement.
"A man can sign a document outside a bank."
"Your note says it was executed in your office."
Cole's smile disappeared.
Silas stood behind Ruth.
Not speaking.
Not rescuing.
Helping.
Ruth placed both hands on Cole's desk.
"My husband did not borrow your money."
"Then take it to court."
"I intend to."
"You have twenty-two days."
Cole leaned back.
"And court costs money."
"So does fraud."
His eyes narrowed.
"Be careful, Mrs. Bellamy."
Silas stepped forward.
Ruth raised one hand.
He stopped.
She looked at Cole.
"Was that a threat?"
Cole smiled again.
"Advice."
"Then here's mine. Keep your records safe."
For the first time, uncertainty flickered across his face.
Ruth left.
Outside, Silas exhaled.
"What?"
"I've known grown men who couldn't make Ephraim Cole look that uncomfortable."
"I have six-year-old daughter who hasn't eaten properly in weeks. Cole no longer impresses me."
Silas laughed.
A real laugh.
Ruth looked at him.
She had never heard it before.
It changed his entire face.
For one dangerous second, she forgot everything else.
Then someone shouted from down the street.
"Fire!"
Silas turned.
Smoke rose beyond the southern edge of town.
Ruth's blood went cold.
The direction of her land.
They ran for the horses.
By the time they reached the property, the barn was burning.
Flames climbed through the dry timber.
Two ranch hands were already pulling cattle away.
Ruth jumped from Mercy.
"The cabin!"
"Safe for now!" Silas shouted.
Wind drove sparks toward the pasture.
Mercy reared.
Ruth struggled with the reins.
Then she heard Anna scream.
"Mercy!"
The girl had ridden behind them with one of Silas's hands, but now she stood near the gate watching the mare panic.
Mercy pulled free.
The chestnut horse bolted toward the burning barn.
"No!"
Ruth ran.
Silas caught her around the waist.
"Let me go!"
"Roof's coming down!"
"Mercy!"
The mare had become trapped between a fence and flames.
Ruth fought him.
"She'll die!"
Silas shoved Ruth toward one ranch hand.
"Hold her."
Then he ran into the smoke.
"Silas!"
He disappeared.
The barn roof cracked.
Anna screamed.
Ruth could not breathe.
Seconds became years.
Then Mercy burst through smoke.
Silas came behind her holding the halter rope.
A burning board crashed where he had stood one heartbeat earlier.
Ruth ran.
Silas stumbled away from the barn.
His coat sleeve smoked.
She beat at it with her hands.
"Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine."
"You're burned."
"Ruth."
She touched his face.
Without thinking.
Their eyes met.
Everything around them seemed to vanish.
Smoke.
Shouting.
Fire.
Thomas.
Loneliness.
Fear.
Silas lifted his hand as if he might touch hers.
Then stopped.
Ruth pulled away.
"Mercy."
"She's fine."
Ruth turned toward the mare.
Anna had wrapped both arms around Mercy's neck.
Silas stared at the burning barn.
His face changed.
"This wasn't lightning."
Ruth looked at him.
"What?"
"No storm. No lantern. Nobody working inside."
He walked toward the rear wall.
Near the fence lay a shattered bottle.
Silas crouched.
He smelled it.
"Kerosene."
Ruth's stomach dropped.
"Someone burned it?"
Silas stood.
His expression was no longer gentle.
"Ephraim Cole told you to keep your records safe."
Ruth understood.
The barn had not been the target.
It had been a warning.
And somewhere in town, a man believed fear would make a hungry widow surrender.
Ruth looked at the flames consuming what little she had.
Then at Anna holding Mercy.
Then at Silas.
"No."
Silas frowned.
"No what?"
"I'm not selling."
His gaze steadied.
"Good."
"I'm not leaving."
"Good."
"And I'm not paying a debt Thomas never owed."
Silas's mouth tightened.
"Very good."
Ruth looked toward town.
"If Cole wants this land," she said, "he is going to have to explain why badly enough to destroy it."