By sunrise, half the north pasture smelled of smoke.
Asa rode beside Sheriff Walter Briggs through blackened grass, his jaw set hard enough to ache.
The fire had not spread far.
A creek and several hours of damp ground saved hundreds of acres.
Whoever had started it had chosen a place unlikely to destroy the entire ranch.
That meant the fire had not been intended primarily as destruction.
It had been intended as a message.
The feed sack containing the warning remained folded in Asa’s coat pocket.
SEND THE WOMAN AWAY.
Walter examined hoofprints near the fence.
“One horse.”
“Can you track it?”
“Ground’s torn up from your hands fighting the fire.”
Asa stared toward the road.
“Who knew she was here?”
Walter gave him a tired look.
“The entire county.”
True.
Harrow Bend had never respected the boundary between community and gossip.
Walter straightened.
“You have enemies?”
“Everybody with land has enemies.”
“Recent ones.”
Asa thought.
“Barker brothers still angry over water access.”
“They’re angry at everyone.”
“Holt complained about my cattle crossing his south quarter.”
“He complains about weather.”
Walter sighed.
“What about Mrs. Vance?”
Asa’s eyes narrowed.
“What about her?”
“Could someone have followed her?”
“I don’t know.”
“You should ask.”
When Asa returned to the house, Maren was waiting.
She had already heard.
Silas was incapable of concealing information he believed people had a right to know.
Asa entered the kitchen.
Maren stood by the table.
Samuel and Lucy were upstairs.
Thomas slept in a basket near the stove.
“Show me.”
Asa hesitated.
“The note.”
He handed it over.
Maren read the words.
Color drained from her face.
Asa saw it.
“You know something.”
“No.”
“Maren.”
“I don’t.”
“But you’re frightened.”
“Someone threatened your ranch because of me. Of course I’m frightened.”
“That isn’t all.”
She looked away.
Asa waited.
Finally she sat down.
“When Thomas died, there were debts.”
“You told me.”
“Not all of them were legitimate.”
Asa remained standing.
“Go on.”
“My husband’s mill had a partner. Victor Hale.”
The name meant nothing to Asa.
“He invested money?”
“At first. Later he began lending against equipment. Thomas became sick before he realized how much Hale had manipulated the accounts.”
“Fraud?”
“I believe so.”
“You believe?”
“The records disappeared after Thomas died.”
“Convenient.”
“Hale claimed the mill belonged to him. A judge agreed because I could not prove otherwise.”
Asa’s expression hardened.
“And now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he threaten you?”
Maren closed her eyes.
“Once.”
Asa felt anger rise.
“How?”
“He came to the room we rented after the mill was sold. He said Thomas had owed him more than the property covered.”
“How much?”
“Five hundred dollars.”
“That’s a fortune.”
“I told him I had nothing.”
“What did he say?”
Maren’s voice lowered.
“He said someday I might.”
Asa paced once.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t know he had followed me.”
“If this is him.”
“You think someone else burned your fence and wrote about me?”
Asa stopped.
“No.”
Maren looked toward the stairs.
“We should leave.”
“No.”
“Asa.”
“No.”
“He threatened your land.”
“He burned grass.”
“Next time it may be the barn.”
“Then he’ll regret it.”
“That is not an answer.”
Asa leaned both hands on the table.
“It is the only answer you’re getting if you believe I’m sending you and the children onto a stage because a coward lit a match.”
Maren stared.
“This is not only your decision.”
“You’re right.”
She seemed surprised.
“It’s yours too.”
He stood upright.
“If you want to leave because you do not want a life here, I’ll put you on the stage myself and make sure you have enough money to start somewhere safe.”
Maren’s eyes widened.
“But if you want to leave because you think I’m frightened of Victor Hale, forget it.”
A tiny smile threatened at the corner of her mouth.
“This is not funny.”
“No.”
“You look furious.”
“I am.”
“That is slightly funny.”
Asa shook his head.
“You have strange taste in men.”
“I traveled across half a country to marry you. That should have answered that already.”
He stared at her.
Then both began laughing.
Fear did not disappear.
But it became bearable.
That afternoon, Samuel overheard enough to understand there was danger.
He found Asa saddling a horse.
“Teach me to shoot.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You’re nine.”
“You had a rifle when you were nine.”
Asa paused.
“How do you know?”
“Silas.”
“I really am firing him.”
Samuel stepped closer.
“If someone comes here—”
“The adults handle it.”
“What if you’re not here?”
“Silas is.”
“What if he isn’t?”
“Samuel.”
“What if it’s just me?”
Asa looked at the boy.
Behind the demand was fear.
Not excitement.
Samuel did not want a weapon.
He wanted assurance he could protect his mother and siblings.
Asa understood that burden too well.
“You shouldn’t have to be the man of the family.”
Samuel looked offended.
“I am.”
“No.”
“My pa died.”
“That doesn’t mean you inherited his responsibilities.”
Samuel’s voice cracked.
“Somebody had to.”
Asa stopped moving.
The boy’s fists were clenched.
“I worked because Mama needed money. I watched Lucy because Mama sewed. I carried Thomas when she was tired. I—”
“You did good.”
Samuel stared.
“But you’re still a boy.”
Samuel’s eyes filled with tears he hated.
“I don’t know how.”
Asa knew exactly what he meant.
How to stop being responsible.
How to trust someone else.
How to be nine.
Asa crouched.
“I’ll make you a deal.”
Samuel wiped his face angrily.
“What?”
“I’ll teach you to shoot when you’re older.”
“How old?”
“Thirteen.”
“Twelve.”
“Thirteen.”
“Twelve and a half.”
Asa almost smiled.
“Thirteen.”
Samuel sighed.
“What do I do until then?”
“Learn everything else.”
“Like what?”
“How to read cattle. Repair harness. Ride safely. Recognize weather. Handle money. Treat animals.”
“That’s not protection.”
“It is.”
Samuel frowned.
Asa touched his shoulder.
“And for the other kind, you have me.”
The boy went still.
“You mean that?”
“Yes.”
Samuel looked toward the house.
“Even if you don’t marry Mama?”
Asa thought of Maren.
He had not yet formally asked again.
Not properly.
“Yes.”
Samuel nodded.
That evening, Asa went into Daniel’s room.
He removed the wooden horse from the dresser.
The next day, he handed it to Lucy.
She stared.
“Mine?”
“Yes.”
“But it was Daniel’s.”
“He would want someone to play with it.”
“How do you know?”
Asa looked at the toy.
“Because he hated leaving things unused.”
Lucy hugged the horse.
Then she hugged Asa.
This time he held her without freezing.
The warning at the fence remained unresolved.
Sheriff Briggs sent telegrams east asking about Victor Hale.
Three days passed.
Then four.
On the fifth, Harrow Bend held Sunday service.
Asa normally sat alone in the back.
That morning he arrived with Maren and the children.
Conversation died when they entered.
Asa felt Maren stiffen.
He offered his arm.
She looked at it.
Then at him.
“You know people are staring.”
“I assumed they had eyes.”
She slipped her hand through his arm.
They walked down the aisle together.
Samuel followed carrying Thomas.
Lucy held Asa’s free hand.
They sat in the third row.
Not the back.
Mrs. Foss nearly twisted her neck looking.
The preacher smiled.
The hymn began.
Halfway through, Lucy sang the wrong verse loudly.
Asa stared forward.
Maren whispered, “Do not laugh.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m praying.”
She elbowed him.
After service, Mrs. Foss approached.
Asa prepared himself.
Instead she looked at Maren.
“I owe you an apology.”
Everyone nearby pretended not to listen.
Maren’s eyebrows rose.
Mrs. Foss continued.
“I judged you before I knew anything about you.”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Foss flinched.
Maren waited.
“I was unkind.”
“Yes.”
Asa nearly smiled.
Mrs. Foss looked down.
“My husband left me when my daughter was two.”
Maren’s face softened.
“I spent twenty years making certain no one could ever whisper about me again.”
She looked toward the church steps.
“I suppose somewhere along the way I began whispering about everyone else first.”
Maren studied her.
Then said, “Thank you for telling me.”
Mrs. Foss nodded.
“Would you and the children have tea Tuesday?”
Lucy spoke immediately.
“Do you have cake?”
Mrs. Foss blinked.
“Yes.”
“We’ll come.”
Maren sighed.
“Apparently we will.”
The first cracks in Harrow Bend’s judgment began closing.
But danger had not gone.
That night a man watched Calder Ranch from a ridge.
He smoked a cigarette.
Waited until the lamps went out.
Then rode away.
Two days later Sheriff Briggs returned carrying a telegram.
Victor Hale was real.
And he was worse than Maren knew.
Briggs placed the paper on Asa’s table.
“Hale’s wanted in Nebraska.”
“For what?”
“Fraud. Arson. Extortion.”
Maren went pale.
Walter continued.
“Two witnesses against him disappeared.”
Silence.
Asa looked toward the children.
“Where is he?”
“No one knows.”
A knock sounded at the front door.
Every adult froze.
Silas reached for his revolver.
Asa moved first.
He opened the door.
No one stood outside.
Only an envelope lay on the porch.
His name was written across it.
Asa picked it up.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Maren read over his shoulder.
YOU WERE WARNED.
Underneath:
THE WIDOW OWES ME.
Asa folded the note.
His face became frighteningly calm.
Maren knew that expression now.
“What are you going to do?”
“End this.”
But Victor Hale had already decided how.
The following afternoon, Lucy disappeared.