“Martha—”
She stepped close enough that he could hear without the men outside.
“If those people came after a sixteen-year-old through three days of snow, they are not leaving because you look frightening in fur.”
Thomas stared.
She continued.
“We survive better together.”
Something in his face shifted.
He nodded once.
“Fine.”
He turned to Eli.
“Cellar anyway.”
The boy protested.
Thomas pointed.
“You can barely stand.”
“If they came for me—”
“They came for something you have.”
Eli’s hand moved automatically toward the pouch.
Thomas saw.
“What is it?”
“I don't know.”
“My father told me never to open the seam.”
Thomas took the pouch.
Ran one thumb along the leather.
A false lining.
He handed it to Martha.
“Cellar.”
This time she agreed.
Not to hide.
To examine.
She helped Eli down the steps beneath the pantry while Thomas positioned himself near the main room.
Martha set a lantern low.
Eli watched her use a sewing knife to cut the inner seam.
Inside lay a narrow strip of oilcloth.
She unfolded it.
Numbers.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Martha had kept accounts for a boarding house before coming to Thomas’s cabin. She understood ledgers.
This was one.
Beside several names appeared dollar amounts.
One name repeated.
Silas Rourke.
Another.
Sheriff Baines.
Another.
Harlan Mining Company.
Then she found Thomas Vale.
Her stomach tightened.
His name appeared beside three payments.
Large ones.
Eli saw.
“What does that mean?”
Martha did not answer immediately.
Because one line was worse.
T. Vale — transfer approved. Gideon contained.
She looked toward the ceiling.
Thomas.
Contained.
Or Thomas approving Gideon’s containment?
She folded the ledger.
The front door upstairs shook beneath a fist.
A man shouted:
“Vale!”
Thomas said nothing.
Another blow.
“We know the boy is in there.”
Martha extinguished the cellar lantern.
Eli whispered:
“They'll kill him.”
Martha took his face between her hands.
“Listen to me.”
He focused.
“Thomas has survived long enough for entire towns to exaggerate stories about him.”
“He can survive a door.”
Another voice outside.
“Give us Gideon’s boy and nobody else has to get hurt.”
Thomas finally answered.
“You brought enough men to threaten a cabin and not enough to take it.”
Silence.
Then:
“Still arrogant.”
Thomas’s voice remained calm.
“Still outside.”
A gunshot shattered the upper window.
Eli flinched.
Martha pushed him behind barrels.
Thomas fired once.
A scream came from outside.
Not dead.
Wounded.
Then footsteps scattered.
More shots hit the cabin.
Martha crawled toward the root-cellar’s narrow rear vent.
A shadow moved.
Someone was circling behind them.
She grabbed a sack of dried peas and emptied half across the cellar steps.
Eli stared.