“Yes.”
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“You were injured.”
“That is not reason.”
“It was mine.”
She glared.
“Stop deciding which truths I can survive.”
Amos stared.
Nobody had spoken to him that way in decades.
He nodded.
“Fair.”
She softened.
“Thank you.”
They continued.
At valley floor they found fresh tracks.
Three riders.
Heading Redstone.
Amos’s old instinct said turn around.
Mountain was safe.
Cabin was known.
His life could return to silence after Lavinia left.
Then he looked at her.
She walked beside him, limping but refusing complaint.
The idea of letting her face whoever sabotaged the coach alone made something primitive and violent wake in him.
He hated it.
Because caring was leverage.
The mountain had no leverage on him.
Lavinia already did.
Redstone had changed.
Amos had last entered town twenty-three years earlier when buildings were fewer and streets dirtier.
Now there were brick storefronts.
Hotel.
Telegraph office.
Rail station.
Bank.
People stared at him.
Fur coat.
Long hair.
Beard.
A man from another century.
They stared at Lavinia too, especially after hotel clerk recognized her surname.
“Miss Beaumont?”
She lifted chin.
“Yes.”
“Your driver came through yesterday.”
Amos’s hand tightened.
“Alone?”
the clerk asked.
“Yes.”
“He said you remained behind because of weather.”
“Where is he?”
“He left.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“With anyone?”
The clerk hesitated.
“Two gentlemen.”
“Names?”
“I don't know.”
Amos leaned closer.
The clerk swallowed.
“One wore Western Meridian badge.”
Lavinia and Amos exchanged a look.
“Gideon Crane?”
she asked.
The clerk laughed nervously.
“Mr. Crane is in Denver.”
“Who then?”
“Regional agent.”
“Name?”
“Harper Voss.”
Amos knew it.
Voss had been a junior clerk at Black Hollow.
Twenty-three years ago.
Too young for power then.
Old enough to remember.
Amos whispered:
“Of course.”
Lavinia looked at him.
“You know him.”
“Yes.”
“Friend?”
“No.”
“Enemy?”
“Not then.”
“Now?”
“We find out.”
They rented a room.
Two beds?
Only one room available.
Lavinia looked at Amos.
He looked toward clerk.
“Floor.”
Clerk blinked.
“What?”
“I’ll take floor.”
Lavinia hid smile.
Inside room she said:
“You slept four nights on your cabin floor.”
“Bearskin.”
“Luxury.”
“I’ve had worse.”
She removed coat.
The wound had reopened slightly.
Amos saw blood.
“Sit.”
She sighed.
“I am capable.”
“Sit.”
“Your charm vanished in town.”
“Never had any.”
He rebandaged her.
This time hands did not shake as much.