A shot cracked over the corral.
Horses screamed.
Ranch hands took cover.
The giant pulled his wife behind the stone water trough.
She pushed back immediately.
“I can move myself.”
“Then move lower.”
Fair.
Another shot struck fence wood.
The bride looked toward the riders.
The former employer was not leading them.
The man from the train was.
His nose was swollen crooked.
Blood no longer on his face.
Rage was.
And the silver locket was gone from his neck.
He shouted:
“Give us the ledger!”
The giant reached for his rifle.
His wife stopped his arm.
“Wait.”
He looked toward her.
“They’re asking.”
“So?”
“If they wanted us dead, they’d fire at us.”
“What are you thinking?”
She looked toward the barn.
Then the ridge.
Then the road.
“Witnesses.”
“Who?”
“The town followed us after the wedding.”
He stared.
She was right.
Several wagons were less than a mile behind.
Wedding guests.
The gang had not expected them.
The bride stood partially.
The giant pulled her down.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure they know we know.”
She shouted:
“The ledger has copies!”
The train attacker laughed.
“You lied about that yesterday.”
The bride’s stomach dropped.
He knew.
How?
The giant heard it too.
A spy.
Someone near the ranch?
The bride looked around.
Ranch hands.
Cook.
Guests approaching.
Who knew she had no copies?
Only people at the kitchen table.
The three ranch hands.
The cook had not been present.
The giant.
Her.
One of the ranch hands had told them.
The giant realized at the same moment.
His eyes moved.
Older man.
Young man.
Narrow-faced man.
The youngest ranch hand stood near the barn.
Too still.
The bride remembered him staring at the ledger.
Fear.
Not curiosity.
The train attacker shouted:
“Bring it out or we burn the barn!”
The giant looked toward the young ranch hand.
“Boy.”
The ranch hand’s face broke.
He ran.
Not toward the house.
Toward the riders.
The narrow-faced ranch hand tackled him before he made ten steps.
They hit the dirt.
The bride stared.
The young man screamed:
“They have my sister!”
Everything changed.
The giant lifted one hand.
“Stop!”
The narrow-faced ranch hand released him.
The young man sobbed.
“They took her three weeks ago.”
“They told me if I didn’t report what she had, they’d kill her.”
The bride’s anger vanished.
The giant looked toward the riders.
“Where is she?”
The young man pointed.
“Black Pass.”
The symbol.
The locket.
The ledger.
The bride’s mind moved fast.
Black Pass wasn't only a freight route.
It was a holding place.
The man on the train smiled from horseback.
“You want the girl?”
“Bring the book.”
The giant’s wife whispered:
“They need the original.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Proof.”
“Or something inside.”
She looked at the ledger.
Maybe one page.
One signature.