Now she was sitting inside an unfamiliar inn because she and Caleb decided they needed to go there.
The realization made her smile.
Caleb entered shortly afterward.
He carried two cups of tea.
He looked toward her.
“Everything all right?”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
He studied her.
“Are you sure?”
Eleanor smiled.
“Caleb, I'm tired, uncomfortable, and worried about what we're going to discover.”
His face tightened.
Then she continued.
“And I'm happier than I have been in years.”
He stared.
For a moment, he seemed confused.
Then she laughed.
“Come sit with me.”
He obeyed.
They watched the snow in comfortable silence.
Eventually, Eleanor rested her head against his shoulder.
He became very still.
She looked up.
“Am I hurting you?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
“Then why are you sitting like a statue?”
He smiled shyly.
“I'm not used to somebody wanting to be close to me.”
Her heart softened.
She reached for his hand.
“Neither am I.”
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then Caleb kissed her forehead.
Eleanor closed her eyes.
And the quiet evening became another small memory they would both treasure.
But the following afternoon, their journey changed.
At a freight station near the road to Denver, Caleb noticed a man watching their wagon.
The man wore a dark coat and stood beside a stack of wooden crates.
When Caleb looked directly at him, the stranger turned away.
For a moment, Caleb considered ignoring it.
Then he saw the emblem on the man's horse harness.
A silver mountain beneath a black circle.
Whitmore Mining Company.
Caleb's stomach tightened.
He looked toward Eleanor.
She noticed immediately.
“What?”
He nodded subtly toward the station.
“Someone's following us.”
Eleanor kept her expression calm.
For several seconds, she watched the man through the wagon's side opening.
Then she recognized him.
Not his face.
The way he stood.
The hand resting against his coat.
The careful distance he kept from their wagon.
She had seen him at Henry's funeral.
He'd been standing beside Solomon Whitmore.
Eleanor took a breath.
“Caleb.”
He looked toward her.
“That man isn't just a company employee.”
His expression hardened.
“Who is he?”
Eleanor swallowed.
“His name is Reuben Graves.”
Caleb stared.
She continued.
“He's the man Solomon used whenever he wanted someone frightened without appearing to threaten them himself.”
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Eleanor looked toward the road.