"Then it bothers me."
Hannah looked down at the ledger.
Neither said anything after that.
Sometime after midnight, a sound woke her.
Small wood against wood.
Hannah opened her eyes.
The house was dark except for the red glow of the stove in the main room.
Then she heard it again.
A scrape.
Not from the roof.
Not from the wind.
She sat up.
A cold line ran along her arms.
Another sound.
Metal.
Hannah pulled on her robe and stepped into the hall.
Nathan's door opened at the same moment.
He was already dressed in trousers and shirt, boots unlaced, rifle in one hand.
He held up a finger.
Hannah stopped.
Nathan moved through the dark without a sound.
The scrape came from the office window, then a sharp crack.
The latch.
Nathan crossed the room fast.
The window shoved inward.
Cold air rushed in.
A shadow moved outside.
Nathan yanked the curtain aside.
Someone ran.
Boots hit frozen ground.
A horse snorted near the treeline.
Then hoofbeats, fast.
Gone.
Nathan did not fire.
He stood at the window listening until the sound disappeared down the road.
Hannah came closer.
The latch hung bent from the frame.
Nathan looked at the desk.
Money in the dish was untouched.
His watch still lay beside the lamp.
The rifle rack had not been disturbed.
Hannah's eyes moved to the corner.
Her trunk.
The lid was scratched near the lock.
Nothing else in the room had been touched.
Nathan saw it, too.
He crossed to the trunk and crouched.
Fresh marks showed around the metal hasp.
Someone had tried to pry it.
Hannah stood very still.
Nathan looked up at her.
"You recognize anything missing?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
His eyes went toward the broken window.
"They didn't come for money."
"No."
Hannah knelt beside the trunk and rested one hand on the lid.
Peter's pale face came back to her.
The way he had looked at it.
The way he had turned away.
Nathan said, "Tomorrow I move the dogs up by the house."
Hannah looked at him.
"You think they'll come back?"
"I think whoever came tonight knew what room to try."
The stove snapped behind them.
Nathan reached out and touched the damaged lock once with his thumb.
Then he looked at Hannah.
"Looks like your proof matters to somebody else, too."
Hannah tightened her hand on the trunk for the first time since her brothers had left her on the road.
She wished she knew exactly what she had carried away.
By daylight, Nathan had already changed the shape of the house.
The two ranch dogs were tied near the back steps instead of the barn.
Ben Shaw had replaced the broken office latch with a heavier iron one.
Nathan checked every window himself, then drove two new screws into the frame with enough force to split the edge of the wood.
Hannah watched from the table.
"You planning to fortify the whole place?"
Nathan set the screwdriver down.
"Planning to make it inconvenient."
"For who?"
"Anybody who comes back."
He did not say Peter's name.