Then she looked toward the flour bin.
The same place she had originally hidden it.
The cowboy understood.
“Decoy.”
She nodded.
The old man whispered:
“They'll search.”
“Eventually.”
The frontier woman opened the flour bin.
Removed a lower wooden panel.
The cowboy stared.
“How long has that been there?”
“Since before we married.”
“You have a hidden compartment?”
She looked at him.
“You had a gun under your mattress for three weeks.”
“Fair.”
She placed the ledger inside.
Closed the panel.
Covered everything with flour.
Then handed her father the decoy bundle wrapped in leather.
“Rear window.”
He stared.
“You want them to chase me?”
“I want them to think you stole it.”
Her father looked hurt.
“That seems believable.”
“Exactly.”
The cowboy whispered:
“Too dangerous.”
The father looked toward him.
“For once, let me do something she chooses.”
His daughter met his eyes.
Something changed between them.
Not forgiveness.
But the first voluntary act between them in years.
She nodded.
The cowboy opened the rear shutter slightly.
The father climbed through.
Rain swallowed him.
Thirty seconds later, someone outside shouted.
“There!”
Boots moved.
The deputy cursed.
The judge yelled.
Two horses thundered away.
The frontier woman waited.
Then the front door exploded inward.
The deputy entered first.
Shotgun raised.
The cowboy hit the barrel sideways.
The gun discharged into the ceiling.
Wood splintered.
The frontier woman grabbed the iron poker.
The deputy swung toward the cowboy.
She drove the poker hard against his wrist.
The shotgun dropped.
The cowboy kicked it beneath the table.
The judge stood behind them.
“Stop!”
Nobody listened.
The deputy lunged toward the frontier woman.
The cowboy shoved him backward.
The deputy crashed into a chair.
It shattered.
The frontier woman stepped between the men before the cowboy could strike again.
“Enough!”
The cowboy stopped immediately.
That surprised the deputy more than the shove.
The frontier woman looked toward the judge.
“You entered my home armed.”
The judge pointed.
“Your home exists under a contract I signed.”
She smiled.
“Not anymore.”
His expression changed.
“What did you do?”
She pointed toward the stove.
Ash.
The judge's face went pale.
“You burned a legal instrument.”
“My legal instrument.”
“You've destroyed your protection.”
The frontier woman stepped closer.
“No.”
“I destroyed yours.”
The judge looked toward the flour bin.
He knew.
The cowboy noticed.
Why would the judge look there?
The frontier woman noticed too.
Her father had told the Whitmores more than the book's location.
He had told them exactly where it was hidden.
The judge moved.
She moved faster.