Neither had slept much.
When he entered, she turned immediately.
"Did you find anything?"
"Tracks."
Her expression tightened.
"Are they nearby?"
"Not now."
He removed his coat.
Then added, "We need to leave before they return."
Clara went still.
"Leave?"
He nodded.
"Town."
Her face paled.
"Caleb, if they see me—"
He raised one hand gently.
"Listen."
She stopped.
He approached.
"We've got records worth protecting. Men are threatening you over them. We need witnesses and people who can help preserve the evidence."
She swallowed.
"Who will believe us?"
Caleb thought about that.
Then said, "Sheriff Boone, if he listens. Martha Bell. Reverend Talbot. And perhaps the territorial land office, once we know how to reach the right people."
Clara looked toward the window.
"They have friends in town."
"I know."
"Voss has money."
"I know that too."
She turned.
Her eyes filled.
"Then how can you be so calm?"
Caleb hesitated.
For a moment, he considered telling her that he wasn't calm at all.
That he was frightened of the men outside.
Not because they might kill him.
Because they might hurt her.
He was frightened of discovering his brother's death had been something more terrible than an accident.
Frightened of hoping that five years of grief might finally have an answer.
And frightened of losing the woman who had made his cabin feel like a home.
Instead, he took her hands.
"Because being frightened doesn't change what needs doing."
Clara stared.
He smiled faintly.
"And because I've spent enough years letting other men decide which truths I'm allowed to know."
Her eyes filled further.
He squeezed her fingers.
"We'll go carefully."
She nodded.
"And the records?"
He looked toward the traveling case.
"We'll make copies. Keep the originals somewhere safe. And make sure more than one person knows what they contain."
Clara considered that.
Her father had tried to protect evidence by keeping it close.
He died before he could place it into the hands of people able to act.
She didn't intend to make the same mistake.
"All right."
Caleb nodded.
Then looked toward her face.
For a moment, he hesitated.
"Clara."
She looked up.
"Yes?"
His voice softened.
"About last night."
Her heart began pounding.
The fire crackled.
For a moment, she remembered sitting in his lap.
His rough hands gripping the chair.
The way he looked at her when she asked him to kiss her.
Then the men at the door.
The terror.
The secrets.