Chapter 7
By noon, Martha Turner had become the most frightening woman in Colorado.
She did not raise her voice.
She did not weep.
She simply read every page in Daniel’s tin box, tied her gray hair tighter, and took her shotgun from beside the door.
Caleb watched her.
“You planning to shoot someone, Mrs. Turner?”
“Planning and hoping are different things.”
Doctor Bell muttered, “Finally, someone sensible.”
For the first time in months, a laugh rose in my chest.
It hurt.
But it came.
Lily slept under three quilts, her fever lower. Martha had fed her spoonfuls of broth every time she stirred. Each time Lily opened her eyes, she looked confused to see her grandmother there.
Martha looked wounded by that.
She deserved to be.
But she stayed.
That mattered too.
Deputy Wicks returned from the barn with his horse saddled.
“Coldwell’s men passed west an hour ago. They lost the trail near the creek.”
Caleb studied him.
“How many still loyal to him?”
“Less after last night. More than enough if Pike pays.”
“Will you testify?”
Wicks swallowed.
“Yes.”
Martha snorted.
“Say it like a man.”
He straightened.
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“Why now?”
His eyes dropped.
“Because when Coldwell said the girl could disappear, I heard my brother begging in the flood shaft. Daniel went down after him when no one else would. I let his widow starve.”
His voice broke.
“I can’t fix that. But I can stop running from it.”
I wanted to hate him.
Part of me did.
But justice needed witnesses more than my anger needed comfort.
“Then help us get the rest of the proof,” I said.
Caleb’s eyes came to mine.
“You have a plan.”
It was not a question.
I looked down at Daniel’s ledger copies.
“These show the theft. But Pike will call them forgeries. Coldwell will say Daniel was bitter. We need the original books.”
“In Pike’s office,” Wicks said.
“In the safe,” Caleb added.
I nodded.
“Then we take them.”
Martha smiled.
It was not kind.
“I like her better now.”
Caleb did not smile.
“Pike’s office is guarded.”
“By men,” Martha said.
“Yes.”
“Men get hungry.”
Doctor Bell looked up.
“So do horses.”
Wicks frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” Doctor Bell said, “the whole town knows I deliver medicine to sick miners every Thursday. Pike’s men expect my wagon at the company yard. They don’t search under bandage rolls.”
Caleb shook his head.
“No.”
Doctor Bell stared at him.
“You do not command me, Rourke.”
“I command sense. If they catch you—”
“They’ll what? Ruin my reputation? They already call me a witch because I don’t faint when men bleed.”
Martha leaned forward.
“I can go with her.”
“No,” I said.
Everyone looked at me.
My hands trembled under the table, so I placed them flat where they could see.
“I’m going.”
Caleb’s jaw tightened.
“Grace.”
“That office stole my husband’s work, my child’s food, and my name in this town. I am going.”
“You have Lily.”
“Yes.” My voice sharpened. “And that is why.”
Martha studied me.
Then she gave one nod.
“Good.”
Caleb looked furious.
Not because he wanted to own my choice.
Because he feared burying me.
I understood the difference now.
But I did not bend.
By dusk, our plan was set.
Doctor Bell’s wagon would enter the company yard with medicine for three men injured in the stamp mill. Martha would ride beside her with a basket of food and enough sharp words to distract a church choir.
I would hide beneath a false bottom in the wagon.
Caleb and Wicks would wait near the back alley. If I found the ledger, I would pass it through the coal chute beside Pike’s office.
If I was caught, Caleb would come in.
That was the part he hated.
That was the part I hated too.
Before we left, Lily woke.
“Mama?”
I went to her quickly.
Her skin was still warm, but her eyes were clearer.
“I’m here.”
“Don’t go.”
The words nearly ended everything.
I sat on the bed and held her hand.
“I have to do something for Papa.”
Her lip trembled.
“Will you come back?”
I wanted to say yes.
I wanted to promise like mothers are supposed to promise.
But lies had already hurt us enough.
“I will fight to.”
She stared at me.
Then she reached under her blanket and pulled out Daniel’s old shirt. Martha must have placed it beside her.
“Take Papa,” Lily whispered.
I pressed the shirt to my face.
It still smelled faintly of smoke and cedar.
Or maybe memory was cruel.
I tucked a small torn piece of the sleeve into my pocket.
“I’ll bring him back too.”
The ride into Silverton felt like riding into a wolf’s mouth.
The town was restless. Men gathered outside saloons. Women watched from windows. The story had spread, but not the truth. Not all of it.
Some saw me as a thief.
Some saw Caleb as an outlaw.
Some saw Lily as a child who would be better off anywhere but with me.
That last one kept my spine straight.
At the company yard, I lay flat beneath the false boards, barely breathing as the wagon stopped.
A guard laughed.
“Evening, Doc. Got any poison in there for Pike?”
Doctor Bell snapped, “Only for men who ask stupid questions.”
Martha added, “Move, boy. I’ve buried better men than you before supper.”
The guard laughed again, nervous now.
The wagon rolled forward.
My heart hammered against the boards.
Inside the office, I heard Pike’s voice before I saw him.
Smooth.
Rich.
Deadly.
“Doctor Bell. Mrs. Turner. How unexpected.”
“Your men sent for medicine,” Doctor Bell said.
“And soup,” Martha added. “Unless your company plans to charge them for swallowing.”
While they argued, I slid from under the wagon and slipped through the side door Wicks had told us about.
The hallway was dim.
My hands shook, but my feet moved.
Pike’s office was at the end.
The door was locked.
I used Daniel’s small knife, the one I had kept after selling nearly everything else. He had taught me once, laughing, how to lift a simple latch when Lily locked herself in the pantry.
The lock clicked.
Inside, Pike’s office smelled of cigars, leather, and stolen bread.
The safe stood behind the desk.
My stomach dropped.
I did not know the combination.
Then I saw the portrait on the wall.
Ellis Pike shaking hands with Sheriff Coldwell.
Below it, four numbers were carved into the frame.
1879.
The year the Monarch reopened.
Men like Pike trusted vanity more than locks.
I turned the dial with numb fingers.
Once.
Twice.
Third number.
Fourth.
The safe opened.
Ledgers filled the shelves.
I grabbed the newest one.
Then another.
Then a bundle of contracts tied with red string.
Behind me, a floorboard creaked.
I turned.
Ellis Pike stood in the doorway.
He looked at the ledgers in my arms.
May you like
Then he smiled.
“Widow Turner,” he said. “You should have stayed hungry.”
