Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN BETWEEN TWO MEN
Emiline got one foot beneath herself.
Then the other.
She was shaking so badly Silas could see it from twenty feet away, but she kept moving toward him.
Crane’s smile disappeared.
“Sit down.”
Emiline ignored him.
The broad man beside the fire reached for her shoulder.
Silas shifted the rifle.
“Touch her and you’ll lose the hand.”
The man stopped.
Crane laughed quietly.
“You always did enjoy pretending you were righteous, Thornton.”
Silas’s eyes never left him.
“I don’t know you well enough to enjoy anything about you.”
“You know enough.”
“I know five children crossed open country in a snowstorm because you took their mother.”
Crane tilted his head.
“Took?”
His eyes moved toward Emiline.
“She came willingly.”
Emiline’s voice was raw.
“He dragged me from my bedroll.”
Crane shrugged.
“Women remember things differently when frightened.”
Silas felt something cold move through him.
“Step away from her.”
The second man looked toward Crane.
Crane gave a tiny shake of his head.
Silas saw it.
So did Emiline.
The bearded man moved first.
His hand dropped toward a revolver.
Silas fired.
The bullet struck the dirt beside his boot.
The man jumped backward.
Silas worked the lever without lowering the rifle.
“Next one doesn’t miss.”
The canyon went silent.
Crane’s expression changed.
There was no false warmth now.
“You shoot me, Sheriff Bell comes asking questions.”
“Good.”
“You think he’ll believe you?”
Silas almost smiled.
“I think a barefoot widow with bruises and five half-frozen children makes a stronger argument than you expect.”
Crane’s jaw tightened.
Emiline staggered again.
Silas wanted to go to her.
He couldn’t.
Not yet.
“Ma’am,” he said, “can you walk?”
“Yes.”
It was clearly a lie.
But it was the kind of lie made by people who understood survival.
“Come toward me.”
She did.
One step.
Then another.
The bearded man watched her pass.
Silas kept the rifle on both men.
Emiline made it halfway.
Crane spoke.
“You don’t know what you’re taking home.”
Silas’s eyes narrowed.
“What does that mean?”
Emiline stopped.
Crane smiled again.
“There it is.”
Her face lost what little color remained.
“Don’t.”
Silas looked at her.
“What?”
Crane answered.
“She’s carrying something.”
Emiline’s voice sharpened.
“Silas, don’t listen.”
“Carrying what?”
“Ask her why she was traveling west.”
Emiline looked at him.
Fear.
Not guilt.
Silas knew the difference.
Crane continued.
“Ask about her husband.”
“My husband is dead.”
“Convenient.”
“You killed him.”
The words cracked through the canyon.
Silas went still.
Crane did too.
The bearded man looked sharply at his partner.
Emiline’s breathing quickened.
“You shot Nathan outside Abilene.”
Crane’s face hardened.
“You can’t prove that.”
“I saw you.”
“You saw nothing.”
“My daughter saw you too.”
Silas’s grip tightened.
“Josie?”
Emiline nodded.
Crane moved.
Not toward the gun.
Toward Emiline.
Silas fired.
This bullet struck Crane high in the shoulder.
He spun backward into the snow.
The second man reached for his revolver.
A new rifle cracked from the ridge above.
His hat flew off.
Everybody froze.
A familiar voice echoed down.
“Hands where I can see them!”
Sheriff Amos Bell appeared on horseback with two deputies behind him.
Silas let out a breath he had not realized he was holding.
Bell dismounted.
“Thornton.”
“Took you long enough.”
“I followed your tracks.”
“I didn’t send for you.”
“No.”
Bell looked toward Crane bleeding in the snow.
“But your ranch hand did.”
Silas almost laughed.
Old Micah.
Of course.
He had told the seventy-year-old ranch hand nothing except to keep the place secure.
Micah had understood anyway.
Bell walked toward Emiline.
“Ma’am?”
She stepped closer to Silas instead.
That choice mattered.
Silas lowered his rifle.
“Her children are at my place.”
Bell’s expression sharpened.
“How many?”
“Five.”
Crane groaned.
Bell looked at him.
“What happened?”
Crane spat into the snow.
“Thornton shot me without cause.”
Emiline started shaking harder.
Silas removed his coat.
He wrapped it around her shoulders.
Crane laughed weakly.
“Careful, Silas. Widow might look pretty now. You don’t know what trouble comes with her.”
Silas turned.
“For a man bleeding into the snow, you talk too much.”
Bell ordered both men restrained.
The bearded one gave his name as Walter Pike.
Pike kept glancing at Crane.
Not loyalty.
Fear.
Silas noticed.
Bell did too.
“Get them back to town.”
One deputy frowned.
“Crane needs a doctor.”
“Then he can explain how he got shot while the doctor removes the bullet.”
Emiline suddenly swayed.
Silas caught her.
Her body was freezing.
“You said the children are safe?”
“Yes.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
“Lily?”
“The baby cried.”
Something in Emiline broke.
She covered her mouth.
Silas held her upright.
“I need to go.”
“You need warmth first.”
“My children—”
“Are waiting.”
She looked at him.
He knew that expression.
The desperate belief that if you stopped moving, something precious might disappear.
Five years ago, Silas had worn that expression while running beside a wagon carrying Eleanor toward the doctor.
He had kept moving because stopping meant admitting he could lose her.
Then he lost her anyway.
“Emiline.”
Her eyes met his.
“I give you my word. They’re safe.”
She stared at him for another second.
Then nodded.
The ride back nearly killed her.
Silas put her in front of him on Copper because she could not stay upright alone.
Her head rested against his chest.
Once, she whispered, “Don’t let me sleep.”
“Wasn’t planning to.”
“Talk.”
He didn’t know what to say.
So he told her about the ranch.
The north pasture fence that always failed during storms.
Micah’s terrible coffee.
A mare named Duchess who bit every man except children.
He spoke nonsense for almost an hour.
Every time Emiline stopped answering, he tightened his arm around her.
“Stay with me.”
“I’m here.”
Then, at last, Thornton Ranch appeared through the falling snow.
Smoke rose from the chimney.
Before Silas could dismount, the front door opened.
Josie ran into the yard.
“Mama!”
Emiline made a sound he would remember for the rest of his life.
She slid from the saddle before he could stop her.
Her knees hit the snow.
Josie reached her.
Then Sam.
Violet.
Rose.
Micah carried Lily wrapped in blankets.
Emiline crawled the last few feet.
Every child collapsed around her.
Silas stood beside Copper.
He did not go closer.
This moment belonged to them.
Emiline kissed faces.
Counted fingers.
Touched Lily’s tiny cheek.
“You’re alive.”
Josie sobbed against her.
“I told them you didn’t leave.”
“I would never leave you.”
“I know.”
Sam stood behind them trying not to cry.
Emiline reached for him.
He broke.
Silas looked away.
Because suddenly he could see another snow-covered yard.
Another child.
Hannah.
Eight years old.
Laughing as she ran toward him.
For one brutal second, Silas forgot she had been dead five years.
Then the truth returned.
He turned toward the barn.
“Silas.”
Emiline’s voice stopped him.
He looked back.
She was holding Lily.
The other children crowded around her.
“Thank you.”
He nodded once.
“No need.”
“There is.”
Silas didn’t answer.
Sheriff Bell rode into the yard ten minutes later.
His expression was grim.
Emiline saw him.
“What?”
Bell removed his hat.
“Crane escaped.”
Silas went still.
“How?”
“Pike helped him.”
“You had them tied.”
“We still do.”
Bell’s jaw tightened.
“Pike slipped a blade from his boot. Cut Crane loose while my deputy was checking a broken wagon strap.”
Emiline’s face drained.
“Where did he go?”
“We lost his tracks in the storm.”
Silas looked toward the white fields.
Then toward five children gathered around their mother.
Crane knew where they were.
Worse—
He knew Silas had taken them in.
Bell spoke quietly.
“He won’t let this go.”
Silas looked at the rifle still strapped to Copper’s saddle.
“No.”
His eyes hardened.
May you like
“Neither will I.”
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