Instead, she squeezed his fingers.
He understood.
The old survey cabin stood above a narrow gorge surrounded by dark timber.
It was smaller than Gideon's home.
Its roof sagged beneath snow.
One shutter hung crookedly from a broken hinge.
The front door was partly buried.
Gideon tied the horses beneath a sheltered stand of trees.
Then he examined the ground.
Lydia watched him.
"What's wrong?"
He crouched.
"Tracks."
She looked down.
Several marks crossed the snow near the cabin.
Not animal tracks.
Boot prints.
Partly covered by fresh snowfall.
"How old?"
Gideon studied them.
"Hard to say. A few days, maybe."
Lydia felt cold.
"Someone's been here?"
"Looks that way."
He stood.
"Stay close."
She nodded.
They approached the cabin.
Gideon pushed snow away from the door.
The wood creaked as he opened it.
Inside, the air smelled of damp timber and old ashes.
A narrow table stood beneath the window.
Two broken chairs lay against the wall.
A small stove occupied one corner.
Shelves had been emptied.
Papers were scattered across the floor.
Lydia stepped inside.
"Someone searched this place."
Gideon looked around.
"Yes."
He walked toward the stove.
Then stopped.
A section of floorboard near the hearth had been pried loose.
His expression hardened.
"They knew where Elias hid things."
Lydia moved closer.
"What was there?"
"I don't know. He didn't tell me."
Gideon knelt.
He lifted the damaged board.
The hollow beneath it was empty.
Lydia felt disappointment settle over her.
They had come so far.
Risked the trail.
Endured the cold.
And someone had arrived first.
Gideon stared at the empty space.
Then struck the floor lightly with one fist.
"Dammit."
Lydia flinched.
He looked up immediately.
"I'm sorry."
She shook her head.
"It's all right."
He rose.
"I should've come sooner."
Lydia looked around the cabin.
Then her eyes settled on the small stove.
She remembered working for wealthy households in St. Louis.
People hid money in strange places.
Inside mattresses.
Behind loose bricks.
Beneath false drawer bottoms.
Everett had once kept a packet of notes inside a broken clock because he believed nobody would think to search something that no longer worked.
Lydia approached the stove.
"Gideon."
He looked toward her.
"Yes?"
"Did Elias ever build things?"
Gideon frowned.
"Constantly."