"What?"
The young man swallowed.
"Briggs knows we're looking for him."
A pause.
"And he's trying to leave the territory."
The Granite Valley storage yard stood nearly fifteen miles south of Willow Creek, near an abandoned freight depot.
It had once been a busy place.
Wagons came and went.
Supplies were stored beneath long wooden sheds.
And workers loaded timber, tools, and grain for transport to distant construction sites.
But business had slowed after the company's land acquisitions became controversial.
Several sheds stood empty.
The main office was locked.
And only a handful of men remained to guard equipment.
According to the deputy, Briggs had been staying there for several days, apparently preparing to move company records and personal belongings before traveling south.
Sheriff Boone had obtained information from a former employee.
The man claimed he saw Briggs loading boxes into a covered wagon at night.
He also reported that one leather satchel bore Samuel Whitmore's initials.
Boone wanted the property secured through lawful process.
He didn't want Briggs destroying records or disappearing before investigators could question him.
The sheriff arranged the necessary authority and assistance.
He also warned Caleb not to interfere.
Caleb listened.
Then looked toward Clara.
Her face was pale.
But determined.
She wanted to see the satchel.
Wanted to know whether her father's final papers had survived.
Caleb understood.
He felt the same desperation about Thomas's missing records.
But he also knew that rushing into the storage yard could place both of them in danger.
So he agreed to remain outside the immediate operation.
Clara did too.
They accompanied Boone and the deputies as observers but stayed back while the officers approached.
The afternoon was cold.
Clouds moved across the sky.
A thin wind lifted dust from the road.
From their position near a line of trees, Caleb could see the storage yard.
Two wagons stood beside the largest shed.
A horse was tied near the office.
And smoke rose from a small chimney.
The sheriff approached with his deputies.
For several minutes, nothing happened.
Then a man appeared at the office door.
Briggs.
He wore his familiar dark coat.
His hat was pulled low.
And he seemed surprised to see the sheriff.
Boone spoke.
Briggs shook his head.
The exchange became tense.
Caleb couldn't hear every word.
But he could see Briggs looking repeatedly toward the covered wagon.
Then the man abruptly turned.
He hurried toward the office.
One deputy moved to intercept him.
Briggs shoved the door against the deputy and disappeared inside.
A moment later, smoke began pouring from a side window.
Caleb went still.
Clara gasped.
"What is he doing?"
Caleb stared.
Then saw flames flickering inside the office.
"Burning something."
The sheriff shouted.
The deputies moved toward the building.
One began opening the nearby water barrel.
Another tried reaching the office door.
Then a woman appeared from the storage shed.
She was middle-aged, with brown hair pinned beneath a practical hat and an expression of terror.
She shouted that someone was still inside.
Caleb looked toward her.