“Then we take it to law.”
Amelia laughed bitterly.
“I tried.”
“Where?”
“Boston.”
“And?”
“Charles owns friendships.”
“That doesn’t mean Montana does.”
“He’ll make people believe I’m mad.”
Ethan looked at her.
“Let him try.”
“You don’t understand what a ruined reputation does.”
“No.”
He leaned forward.
“But I understand fences.”
“And I understand a man who comes onto my land at night.”
“He crossed his line first.”
Amelia stared.
“You'd risk your ranch for me?”
Ethan’s answer came easily.
“I married you.”
“That was arrangement.”
“Not anymore.”
Silence.
He looked toward box.
“Tomorrow, we go to Sheriff Bell.”
Amelia’s face tightened.
“You trust him?”
“Yes.”
“Completely?”
“No.”
She blinked.
Ethan almost smiled.
“I trust no sheriff completely.”
“Healthy.”
“But enough.”
He closed the box.
“Tonight, box doesn’t stay in your room.”
“Where?”
“Smokehouse.”
“Too obvious.”
“Root cellar?”
“Damp.”
Ethan thought.
Then smiled.
“What?”
“Thunder.”
Amelia frowned.
He carried the box to the stallion’s private tack cabinet.
Nobody in Red Hollow except Amelia willingly entered Thunder’s enclosure.
It was the safest safe in Montana.
The next morning Charles Whitaker walked into Lou’s Saloon wearing a black coat and acting as if the town had been expecting him.
Red Hollow had seen wealthy easterners before.
Railroad men.
Cattle investors.
Land speculators.
Most arrived loud.
Charles arrived polite.
That made him more dangerous.
He bought drinks.
Asked names.
Complimented the town.
By lunch, half of Red Hollow knew he was looking for a woman called Amelia Hart.
By afternoon, several also knew his version of why.
Unstable horse trainer.
Thief.
Manipulative bride.
Woman who had trapped a Montana rancher.
Charles understood gossip because wealth had always protected him from its consequences.
He did not expect Ethan Callahan to walk through saloon doors at three o’clock.
Conversation stopped.
Ethan removed his hat.
Charles turned.
The men looked at one another.
Charles smiled.
“Mr. Callahan.”
“You know me.”
“I make it a point to know men whose property becomes relevant to my affairs.”
Ethan stepped closer.
“Your affairs ended at my north fence.”
Charles’s smile remained.
“I heard you suffered damage.”
“Unfortunate.”
“You cut it?”
“No.”
“Send men?”
“No.”
“Know who did?”
“No.”
Ethan nodded.
“Good.”
Charles tilted his head.
“Why good?”
“Because that makes the next part easy.”
Ethan stepped close enough that only Charles and nearest tables could hear.
“You come onto my ranch without invitation, I remove you.”
“You send men, I treat them same.”
“You cut fence again, sheriff gets prints, tracks, and whatever else you’re careless enough to leave.”
Charles’s eyes cooled.
“Your wife is a troubled woman.”
“Careful.”
“She has stolen property belonging to my family.”
“My wife owns what she brought into our marriage.”
“Not the box.”
“You know a great deal about a box you claim is yours.”
Charles’s jaw tightened.
Ethan continued:
“Sheriff Bell will enjoy hearing that.”
Charles’s smile returned.