but to a charitable hospital fund in Chicago.

The wife smiled faintly.

“Killing us solves nothing now.”

Her uncle slowly placed the document on the table.

“You've become dramatic.”

“I learned from Montana.”

The rancher almost smiled.

The uncle leaned back.

“I haven't harmed either of you.”

“Then you won't object to a federal investigation.”

This time his mask cracked.

Only slightly.

Enough.

“Be careful,” he said.

The wife leaned closer.

“I spent my entire life being careful around you.”

Her voice remained calm.

“I’m finished.”

They left.

Halfway down the hotel corridor, the rancher whispered, “That was terrifying.”

She looked at him.

“My uncle?”

“No.”

“You.”

For the first time that day, she laughed.

Chapter Sixteen — The Second Twist

They had nearly reached the street when a hotel clerk ran after them.

“Sir!”

The rancher turned.

The clerk handed him a telegram.

“For your wife.”

She opened it.

Read.

Then stopped.

“What?”

She handed it to him.

The message came from Chicago.

It had been sent by the attorney overseeing her trust.

Her uncle had been removed as trustee that morning.

Temporary injunction granted.

Accounts frozen.

The rancher looked up.

“You already sent evidence.”

She nodded.

“When?”

“Before we left the cabin.”

He stared.

“You knew?”

“I hoped.”

“You confronted him anyway?”

“I wanted to see his face.”

The rancher laughed.

“That may be the most dangerous thing you've ever said.”

“Not even close.”

They stepped outside.

Across the street, a man stood beside a horse.

The wounded stranger from the cabin had described the saboteur only briefly.

Tall.

Gray hat.

Scar near the ear.

The man across the street wore a gray hat.

The rancher saw the scar.

Their eyes met.

The stranger mounted.

“Henry.”

“I see him.”

The man rode.

The rancher ran toward his own horse.

His wife grabbed his coat.

“Don't chase him.”

“He tried to kill us.”

“Exactly.”

“He gets away.”

“No.”

She pointed toward the street corner.

Two federal deputies were already approaching.

The rancher stared.

“You arranged that too?”

She smiled.

“I told you I understand paperwork.”

The gray-hatted man turned his horse.

One deputy blocked the road.

The man drew a pistol.

The rancher shouted.

A shot cracked.

A horse reared.

People scattered.

The second deputy tackled the gunman as he fell from the saddle.

Within seconds it was over.

The rancher looked at his wife.

“You planned all of this.”

“Most.”

“Without telling me.”

“You wanted honesty.”

“Yes.”

“You also wanted to ride directly into danger.”

He considered.

“Fair.”

She touched his hand.

“We are still learning.”

The rancher looked down at her fingers resting against his.

He turned his hand over.

Their fingers intertwined.

Neither pretended not to notice.