Chapter 6 - Shadows on the Stone
The sharp crack of a warning shot splintered the cedar lintel above the window, showering the interior of the cabin with dry wood fragments and cold dust.
Outside, the wind howled down from the granite shelf, carrying the unmistakable sounds of booted feet scrambling across the frozen shale. Vance Ridge had suddenly transformed from an isolated sanctuary into a besieged outpost.
Arthur Vance didn't flinch. With the practiced movements of a man who had seen more than one range war in his lifetime, the old surveyor worked the pump of his shotgun, chambering a fresh shell with a metallic thud that cut through the whistling wind. He cast a quick, assessing glance toward Nora, then toward Reed, who stood braced against the shadowed wall beside the heavy oak door.
“They’re testing the perimeter,” Vance said, his voice raspy but steady. “Cooper doesn't want to burn the cabin down. He wants the ledger intact, and he wants whoever’s inside to realize there’s no trail out through the snow.”
Nora kept her shoulder pressed against the rough stone of the southern aperture, her breathing even, though every instinct inside her screamed that she was trapped again. This wasn't the quiet terror of fleeing through the blizzard with an iron cylinder clutched in her frozen fingers; this was a deliberate, calculated trap set by a man who treated human lives as disposable items on a corporate ledger.
“They think we’re just a couple of stray homesteaders and an old man,” Nora said softly, her eyes flicking to Reed in the dim light. “They don't know we have the original entries right here in this coat.”
“They will as soon as they breach the door,” Reed replied. His grey eyes were intensely focused, stripped of all extraneous thought, measuring distances and angles with the cold precision of a rancher who knew every inch of his land—and every hazard of the mountains. He stepped closer to Nora, his shoulder brushing hers in the confined space. “We aren't giving them the ledger, Nora. And we aren't letting them walk away with this mountain.”
Before Nora could answer, a heavy thud struck the exterior of the heavy oak door, followed by a grating scrape as someone threw their weight against the timber. The hinges groaned under the sudden, violent assault.
Arthur Vance didn't wait. He raised his shotgun toward the north window, where a dark silhouette flashed briefly against the grey twilight of the snow-covered ridge, and fired. The thunderous blast shook the dust from the ceiling rafters, and a sharp curse echoed from outside, followed by the rapid scurry of boots retreating into the shelter of the ledge.
“That’s one,” Vance muttered, working the lever again. “But Cooper’s got at least two dozen more spread out across the lower slope.”
Reed moved with sudden, decisive authority. He unlatched the heavy wooden bolt on the back door that led directly into the narrow, winding root cellar cut deep into the limestone foundation of the ridge.
“Arthur, you and Nora take the ledger and go down through the cellar into the ravine,” Reed ordered, his voice dropping into a tone that brooked no argument.
Nora stiffened, turning away from her aperture. “No. I’m not leaving you here to hold the door alone, Reed. We came down here together.”
“You’re not leaving the ledger behind, and Cooper is looking for you just as much as he’s looking for this book,” Reed said, stepping right up to her. His gaze held hers with an intensity that burned away any further argument. His hand came up briefly, his calloused fingers wrapping around her forearm in a warm, solid grip that grounded her trembling nerves. “I’m not staying to die, Nora. I’m drawing them into the courtyard while you circle around through the old drainage ditch behind the barn. Once you reach the lower timber, make for the federal telegraph station at South Pass.”
“And you?” Nora asked, her voice tight with a sudden, sharp fear that had nothing to do with guns or bullets.
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“I’ll meet you at Callaway Flats before dawn,” Reed said, his thumb brushing over her wrist in a fleeting gesture of reassurance before he let go. “Go. Now.”
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