Chapter 7 - The Choice at the Timberline
By late afternoon, the timberline grew dense, the trees crowding close against the narrow trail until the sunlight filtered through in broken, golden shafts. They reached the abandoned logging camp—a collection of rotting timber shacks and rusted machinery swallowed by decades of undergrowth—and tied their horses securely in a sheltered gully out of sight.
They continued on foot, backpacks loaded with rations, ammunition, and the precious envelope containing the documentary evidence of the conspiracy. The climb grew steeper, testing every muscle. Thomas, unaccustomed to rugged mountain travel, began to lag behind, his breathing ragged and shallow.
Near a rocky shelf overlooking a roaring mountain creek, Thomas stumbled, his boot catching on an exposed root. He dropped to one knee, gasping for air, the color draining entirely from his face.
Silas hurried back and knelt beside him, checking his pulse. "Take it easy. We'll rest here for ten minutes."
"I... I can't keep this pace up, Mercer," Thomas wheezed, clutching his chest. "I'm slowing you down. If the syndicate's men are behind us, they'll catch us because of me."
Sayen stepped over, kneeling on Thomas's other side. Her expression was compassionate but resolute. She reached into her pack and handed him a skin of cool water. "You drink some of this, Thomas. We aren't leaving you behind. That's not how we do things."
"You don't understand," Thomas said, his voice trembling as he pushed the water away slightly. "They aren't just hunting the papers. They know my name. If they catch me, I hang for treason against the army. If they catch you... well, you know what they planned for you in Bitter Creek. By staying with me, you're risking everything."
Silas stood up, looking down the trail they had just climbed. He could hear the faint, distant cry of a hawk, or perhaps something else—a sound carried on the wind that didn't belong to the wilderness. He looked back at Sayen and Thomas. A heavy, moral weight hung in the mountain air. If they split up, Thomas might not survive the wilderness alone, but he could act as a decoy, or perhaps slip through while Silas and Sayen carried the evidence. Yet Silas knew that dividing their strength in hostile territory was a dangerous gamble.
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"We stay together," Silas said, his voice carrying an absolute finality. "If we split up, they pick us off one by one. Thomas, you take the ledger copies in your inner pocket, and Sayen and I will take the primary manifest. If one group gets intercepted, the other makes it to Helena. That's our compromise."
Thomas looked up, tears welling in his tired eyes, and slowly nodded. He pulled himself up, gripping his walking stick with renewed determination. "All right. Let's walk."
