Inside, the smell hit him immediately. Smoke, not fire, oil. Someone had poured lamp oil across the back wall. Ethan cursed and grabbed a bucket. Clara spotted a thin trail leading toward a pile of dry hay.
Ethan. A burning rag lay near the wall. He stamped it out with his boot. The flame died. Barely.
Clara looked toward the open rear door. Someone was here while Briggs kept us talking. Ethan ran outside. Hoof prints cut through the dirt behind the barn. One rider.
Maybe two. "They planned this." Clara said. "They're testing us." "No." Ethan looked at her. She studied the tracks. "They're trying to scare you into reacting." "What difference does that make?
If you ride into town and threaten Briggs, Sheriff Nolan arrests you." Ethan's eyes narrowed. "And while I'm sitting in a cell, Briggs gets what he wants." Clara nodded. "You said Briggs thinks he can move people like pieces on a board." Ethan looked toward the distant ridge. "Then we stop being predictable." They spent the next hour moving hay away from the barn wall and checking every shed on the property. By nightfall, Ethan had loaded two rifles and placed buckets of water near the porch.
Clara made coffee. Neither mentioned sleep. They sat across from each other at the kitchen table while darkness settled over the ranch. The old letter lay between them. Ethan looked at it again.
"Read it." Clara hesitated. "You sure?" "No." That brought the faintest smile to her lips. She broke the old seal. The paper inside had yellowed. Her hands shook as she unfolded it.
Then she began. "Ethan, meet me beneath the cottonwoods tonight. I don't care what father says. I don't care what town people think. I only care whether what you said last night was true." Her voice stopped.
Ethan stared at her. "What did I say?" Clara looked down. "You said if I asked you to stay, you would." His throat tightened. "I remember." She continued reading. "If you meant it, come before the church bell strikes nine.
I will wait for you. If you do not come, I will understand." Clara lowered the letter. "I didn't understand." Ethan looked at her across the table. I meant every word. Tears gathered in her eyes.
Then why didn't you ever marry? He gave a dry laugh. You really need to ask? Her lips parted. You?
There was one woman I wanted. Clara went still. Ethan leaned forward. And I spent 17 years believing she hated me. She looked down at the letter because she could no longer hold his gaze.
Outside, something moved near the porch. Ethan heard it first. His chair scraped backward. He grabbed the rifle. Clara reached for the revolver he had placed beside her.
A horse snorted near the fence. Then came a knock. Three slow knocks. Ethan approached the door from the side. Who is it?
A young male voice answered. Daniel Pike. Clara frowned. I know him. Ethan opened the door carefully.
A boy of maybe 20 stood on the porch, breathing hard, sweat darkening his shirt despite the cool night. His horse waited behind him. Daniel looked over one shoulder. You need to leave this ranch. Ethan lowered the rifle slightly.
Why? Briggs hired men from Red Bluff. How many? Daniel swallowed. Eight.