Chapter 28 #3
It had probably once belonged to a trapper or hunter. The roof sagged at one end, and moss darkened the logs along the northern wall. Smoke curled from a narrow chimney. A small fire burned outside, and three men stood around it.
Silas was not among them.
His gaze moved to the shack.
Martha was inside.
He knew it with a certainty that made every muscle in his body tighten.
Beside him, Reuben shifted.
Jonas put out one hand without looking and caught his brother's sleeve.
“Wait.”
Reuben went still.
One of the men near the fire turned enough for Jonas to see his face.
He had never seen him before.
That did not matter.
Seventeen years vanished in a heartbeat.
Jonas saw his father riding away.
He saw the long hours afterward.
He saw himself standing in front of two frightened boys, trying to find words for something he had barely understood himself.
The Voss Gang.
Perhaps these men had been there.
Perhaps one of them had fired the shot.
His finger tightened against the rifle stock.
Anger rose so violently that for one dangerous instant he wanted to walk into the clearing and demand names.
But instead of thinking about the gang, about his father, he could think only of Martha.
Not the gang.
Not his father.
Martha.
Somewhere inside that shack, she was alone with Silas.
Jonas forced his hand to loosen.
This was not about vengeance.
Not today.
Tobias leaned close enough that his whisper barely carried. “There's another approach on the east side. Trees come almost to the wall.”
Jonas looked where he indicated.
His brother was right.
A shallow depression ran along the edge of the clearing, partly hidden by brush. A man could move through it without being seen from the fire if he stayed low.
“How many can get through?”
“Two easily. Three if we're careful.”
Jonas looked at Reuben.
His brother's anger was plain, but he nodded.
Fergus crouched behind them. “What do you need?”
Jonas studied the clearing again.
The men outside were armed. Silas was inside with Martha. Sheriff Crane was coming, but Jonas had no way of knowing how long Percy would take to reach him or how quickly Crane could gather help.
Going in blindly could get Martha killed.
Waiting too long might do the same.
“We don't move until we know where everyone is,” Jonas whispered. “Tobias, take Fergus and circle east. Find out whether there's another door or window. Don't let them see you.”
Tobias nodded.
“If anyone tries to leave with Martha, stop them.”
“I will.”
“Don't fire unless you have to.”
Another nod.
Jonas looked toward Reuben. “Stay with me.”
Reuben's gaze remained fixed on the clearing. “Gladly.”
Eliza moved closer. “And me?”
Jonas looked at the revolver in her hand.
“Watch the horses. If Silas tries to move her before we can get inside, he doesn't get far.”
Her jaw tightened, but she accepted the assignment.
Tobias disappeared into the trees with Fergus, moving so quietly that Jonas lost sight of them within moments.
Jonas settled behind the log.
Waiting had never felt so difficult.
One of the men laughed beside the fire.
Another passed him a flask.
Jonas watched them and wondered how many families had reason to hate the men in that clearing. He wondered whether his father had seen one of those faces before he died.
Then the shack door opened and Jonas's entire body went rigid as Silas stepped outside.
He looked relaxed.
That angered Jonas more than if he had emerged with a gun drawn.
Silas rolled one shoulder, then the other, and said something to the nearest man. The others laughed. He took the offered flask, drank, and turned back toward the shack.
Jonas could not hear the words, but he did not need to.
Every instinct told him to move.
He held himself still.
Silas lowered the flask and glanced toward the surrounding woods.
For one terrible second, Jonas thought he had seen them.
Then Silas turned away.
Reuben leaned close. “Tell me when.”
Jonas kept his gaze on the shack.
He thought of Martha standing in her kitchen, telling him the truth too late.
He thought of the years she had hidden.
He thought of her helping plan robberies and helping Amos escape.
None of it had disappeared.
Neither had the woman who had ridden through winter cold for his brothers, opened her doors during a blizzard, taken in a starving boy, and sat beside Jonas at the river with a sketchbook in her lap.
Reuben had been right.
Both women existed.
Jonas still did not know what that meant for them.
He only knew Silas did not get to decide their future.
A faint movement came through the trees on the eastern side. Tobias raised two fingers, then pointed toward the rear of the shack.
A second entrance.
Jonas nodded.
The plan began taking shape.
He checked his rifle, then looked once toward the road behind them, hoping to hear Sheriff Crane and knowing they could not count on it.
The sun had sunk lower, leaving long bars of shadow between the trees.
Jonas looked back at the shack.
Somewhere beyond those log walls was the woman he loved.
He was still angry with her.
He was still hurt.
He did not know whether he could trust her again.
But those were questions for a world in which Martha was alive and free enough to answer them.
Jonas tightened his grip on the rifle and waited for Tobias's signal.