Gideon did not speak for nearly a minute.
Mabel watched him stand beside the table, his face unreadable.
Finally, she asked softly, “What happened to you?”
He did not answer.
“Gideon.”
“You should sleep.”
“No.”
His eyes snapped toward her.
Mabel held his gaze.
“You believed me when I told you something terrible.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because yours matters.”
“So does yours.”
He almost turned away.
Mabel closed the journal.
“The entire town believes you cannot have children because Dr. Sutter told them.”
“He didn’t tell them.”
“What happened?”
Gideon let out a slow breath.
“Seven years ago, I got hurt.”
“The scar?”
He nodded.
“Rockslide above the north pass. Horse threw me. I hit stone.”
Mabel waited.
Gideon’s voice became flatter.
“I had internal bleeding. Sutter treated me.”
“And afterward?”
“He told me the injuries likely damaged me.”
“Likely?”
“That was his word.”
“Did he examine you properly?”
“I was half-conscious.”
“Did another doctor confirm it?”
“No.”
Mabel stared at him.
“Then you never knew.”
Gideon’s jaw tightened.
“Wasn’t something I needed confirmed.”
“Why?”
“Because I wasn’t planning to marry.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“It meant enough.”
Mabel heard the pain beneath the answer.
“How did the town find out?”
Gideon looked toward the fire.
“Sutter drank too much one night.”
The rest required no explanation.
A doctor’s drunken comment became saloon gossip.
Saloon gossip became fact.
Women laughed.
Men joked.
The scarred mountain man became the “broken buck.”
Mabel’s eyes burned.
“They were cruel to you too.”
“I didn’t care.”
“Yes, you did.”
His stare sharpened.
Mabel continued carefully.
“You simply learned not to show it.”
That struck too close.
Gideon walked to the window.
The mountains were dark beyond the glass.
“You said Jonah chose you because you were isolated,” Mabel said. “Maybe there was another reason.”
“What?”
“If the town already believed you were infertile…”
She stopped.
Gideon turned.
“Say it.”
Mabel’s mind worked rapidly.
“Suppose I died before my birthday.”
“Yes.”
“Who inherits my share?”
“Jonah?”
“I don’t know.”
“You need to know.”
“But if I survived…”
She looked at him.
“…and had children someday, they could become heirs.”
Gideon went still.
“Jonah would want that prevented.”
Mabel nodded.
The idea was frightening.
But possible.
The next morning, Gideon decided they needed proof.
Not suspicion.
Not theories.
Documents.
He prepared to ride to a trading post two days away.
Mabel protested.
“You shouldn’t go alone.”
“You staying here is safer.”
“Based on what?”
He pointed toward a rifle.
“That.”
Mabel folded her arms.
“I’ve fired it twelve times.”
“You hit the knot.”
“After missing the tree.”
“You improved.”
“Wonderful. I’ll inform any murderer that I improve with practice.”
Gideon almost smiled.
But he became serious.
“I need to send a telegram.”
“To whom?”
“Horace Vale.”
Mabel stared.
“The lawyer?”
“If he wrote your mother’s will, he knows what’s in it.”
“How will you find him?”
“Telegraph office can trace Denver firms.”
Mabel hesitated.
“If Jonah learns—”
“He won’t.”
She looked unconvinced.
Gideon stepped closer.
“I’ll be gone three days.”
“What if something happens?”
He pointed to the barn.
“Old mare is saddled. If anyone comes, ride east through the trees. There’s an abandoned trapper shelter four miles up.”
Mabel nodded.
Then Gideon did something unexpected.
He took her hand.
“Do not open the door for anyone.”
Her breath caught.
“Not even someone you recognize?”
“Especially someone you recognize.”
He released her.
Then he rode away.
The cabin became enormous without him.
Mabel tried to stay busy.
She baked bread.
Cataloged medicines.
Cleaned the upper shelves.
Wrote down everything she remembered about Jonah and Dr. Sutter.
By sunset, loneliness crept in.
By midnight, fear joined it.
Every branch sounded like a footstep.
Every gust of wind sounded like a hand against the door.
The first day passed.
The second.
On the second night, the horses became restless.
Mabel woke instantly.
She reached for the rifle Gideon had left beside the bed.
Hoofbeats.
One horse.
Slow.
Approaching the cabin.
Mabel moved toward the window without lighting a lamp.
A rider stopped outside.
She could not see his face.
The rider dismounted.
Knock.
Mabel did not answer.
Another knock.
“Mabel?”
She froze.
She recognized the voice.
Dr. Edwin Sutter.
“Mabel, I know you’re in there.”
Her hands tightened around the rifle.
“How did you find me?”
“I came to check on you.”
“Why?”
“You’ve been ill.”
“I’m better.”
“That’s exactly why I’m concerned.”
Mabel almost laughed.
“Go away.”
“Mabel, open the door.”
“No.”
His tone changed.
“I brought medicine.”
Her blood chilled.
“I don’t need it.”
“You don’t understand your condition.”
“I understand it better than you think.”
Silence.
Then Sutter said, “Did you bring your grandfather’s journals?”
Mabel stopped breathing.
He knew.
Outside, the floorboards creaked.
Sutter was moving toward the side window.
Mabel raised the rifle.
“If you try to come inside, I’ll shoot.”
“You don’t know how.”
Mabel remembered Gideon’s voice.
Loosen your grip.
Breathe.
She fired through the window frame.
The bullet struck the porch post inches from Sutter.
He cursed.
The horse panicked.
“You crazy woman!”
Mabel worked the lever.
“Leave.”
Sutter backed away.
“You have no idea what you’re doing.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing.”
He mounted.
Before riding away, he called out.
“Jonah was right about you.”
Mabel stepped closer to the broken glass.
“What did he say?”
“That you never know when to stop.”
Then Sutter disappeared into the darkness.
Gideon returned the next afternoon.
He saw the bullet hole before he dismounted.
He came through the door like a storm.
“Mabel!”
“I’m here.”
He found her at the table.
His face changed when he saw she was unharmed.
“What happened?”
“Sutter.”
Every muscle in Gideon’s body tightened.
“He came here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He said he brought medicine.”
Gideon turned toward the door.
Mabel grabbed his sleeve.
“Where are you going?”
“To find him.”
“No.”
“He came to my house.”
“And I sent him away.”
“He threatened you.”
“He did not get inside.”
Gideon looked furious.
Mabel did not let go.
“If you ride after him angry, Jonah wins.”
Gideon stared at her.
“How?”
“He needs you to look violent.”
That stopped him.
Mabel continued.
“He needs Ridge Creek to believe you are the dangerous man they already think you are.”
Gideon slowly unclenched his fist.
“You’re right.”
“I know.”
He looked at her.
“You enjoy saying that.”
“Only because it happens so rarely.”
His eyes narrowed.
She smiled.
His anger weakened.
Then he remembered why he had gone.
“I found Vale.”
Mabel’s smile vanished.
“What did he say?”
Gideon removed a telegram.
“He’s alive.”
He placed it before her.
The message was short.
HAVE ORIGINAL WILL COPY. URGENT YOU CONTACT ME. DO NOT TRUST ABERNATHY. WILL TRAVEL RIDGE CREEK WITHIN SIX WEEKS.
Mabel read it twice.
Then a third time.
Her hands began to shake.
“Do not trust Abernathy.”
Gideon nodded.
“He knew.”
“Maybe my mother told him.”
“Maybe.”
Mabel looked up.
“What else?”
“I asked about inheritance.”
“And?”
“Vale refused to discuss details by telegram.”
“Why?”
“Privacy.”
Gideon paused.
“But he said one thing.”
“What?”
“If you die before twenty-seven without legal descendants, Jonah remains controlling beneficiary for fifteen years.”
Mabel’s face went white.
There it was.
Motive.
Not gossip.
Not imagination.
Money.
A fortune large enough to kill for.
Gideon sat across from her.
“There’s more.”
Mabel looked frightened to ask.
“At the trading post, I spoke with an old freight driver.”
“So?”
“He remembered your mother.”
Mabel straightened.
“What about her?”
“He transported medicine to Ridge Creek the year she died.”
“From where?”
“Durango.”
“What medicine?”
“Arsenic compounds.”
The room went silent.
Mabel whispered, “For the mine?”
“That’s what the invoice said.”
“Arsenic can be used in processing.”
“Yes.”
“But?”
“The shipment went to Jonah’s house.”
Mabel closed her eyes.
For years she had wondered.
Her mother had become weak slowly.
Then very sick.
Then dead.
Jonah had insisted on a quick burial.
Dr. Sutter had signed the certificate.
Heart failure.
Mabel had accepted it because she was eighteen and grieving.
Now everything had changed.
“My mother.”
Gideon reached across the table.
Mabel’s hands were cold.
He covered them with his.
“We don’t know yet.”
“I do.”
“No.”
“I know.”
Her voice cracked.
“He killed her.”
Gideon moved around the table.
Mabel stood.
For one uncertain second, neither knew what to do.
Then she stepped into him.
Gideon wrapped his arms around her.
She cried against his chest.
Not the quiet tears she had learned to hide.
Years of fear came out at once.
He held her carefully.
No embarrassment.
No judgment.
Only warmth.
When she finally pulled back, her eyes were swollen.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“This.”
He frowned.
“For crying?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t apologize for that.”
Mabel looked at him.
Gideon brushed a strand of hair from her face.
His fingers lingered.
For the first time, they both became aware of how close they stood.
Mabel’s breath changed.
Gideon’s gaze dropped briefly to her mouth.
Then hoofbeats sounded outside.
Both turned instantly.
Gideon reached for his gun.
A rider emerged from the trees.
Not Sutter.
Not Jonah.
A young boy.
Maybe fourteen.
He nearly fell from the saddle.
“Mr. Caldwell!”
Gideon opened the door.
The boy was panting.
“What happened?”
The boy held out a folded letter.
“From Ridge Creek.”
Gideon took it.
“Who sent you?”
“Mrs. Bell.”
Mabel recognized the name.
A widow who worked behind the desk at the bank.
Gideon opened the letter.
His expression hardened.
“What?”
Mabel stepped closer.
He handed it to her.
Mabel read.
Jonah Abernathy had filed paperwork declaring Mabel mentally incompetent.
And Dr. Sutter had signed the medical statement.