PART 2 — THE SECRET SHE HAD SPENT YEARS HIDING

Silas waited until the kitchen was empty before confronting Ollie.

“What exactly did you hear?”

Ollie looked toward the pantry door.

“There’s a man in Cheyenne named Gideon Pike. Runs a freight business. Has money, friends in the sheriff’s office, and a reputation nobody wants to challenge.”

“What does he have to do with Maren?”

“Everything, if the stories are true.”

Silas leaned against the table.

“Talk.”

Ollie lowered his voice.

“Three years ago, there was a fire at a boardinghouse outside Cheyenne. Folks said a young woman had started it. They said she’d stolen money from the owner and disappeared before anyone could question her.”

“Was she Maren?”

“That’s what I heard.”

Silas stared at him.

“Did she start the fire?”

“Nobody knows. But Pike has been telling people she stole something valuable from him. He’s been looking for her ever since.”

Silas looked toward the kitchen window.

Maren was outside hanging freshly washed sheets.

She moved slowly, carefully, as if even the simplest tasks required her to measure every movement.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I wanted to be certain.”

Silas stood.

“Find out everything you can.”

But before Ollie could leave, Wesley appeared in the doorway.

“Are you talking about Maren?”

Both men turned.

The boy’s expression had changed.

“Is someone coming to take her away?”

Silas hesitated.

“No one is taking anybody anywhere.”

Wesley looked down.

“People always leave.”

Silas had no answer.

That evening, Maren served supper as usual.

She placed the food on the table, poured coffee, and asked Wesley about his lessons.

But Silas couldn’t stop watching her.

Finally, he spoke.

“Someone came through Cheyenne today.”

Maren’s hand тιԍнтened around the coffee pot.

“Did they?”

“A man named Gideon Pike.”

The kitchen became completely silent.

Wesley looked from his father to Maren.

Silas continued.

“Apparently, he’s been looking for you.”

Maren slowly put the coffee pot down.

“I see.”

“Would you care to explain why?”

For several seconds, she didn’t move.

Then she looked at Wesley.

“Finish your supper, sweetheart.”

The boy glanced at his father.

“Go on,” Silas said.

When Wesley had gone upstairs, Maren sat down.

It was the first time Silas had ever seen her sit at his table without being invited.

“I didn’t steal anything,” she began.

“I didn’t say you did.”

“You want to know about the scars.”

Silas remained quiet.

Maren slowly unʙuттoned the cuff of her left sleeve.

Then she pushed the fabric back.

The old scars extended farther than he had imagined, disappearing beneath the edge of her sleeve.

She didn’t look at them.

She looked at the table.

“My father died when I was sixteen. My mother followed two winters later. I had nowhere to go, so I took work in a boardinghouse outside Cheyenne.”

She paused.

“The owner was Gideon Pike.”

Silas listened without interrupting.

“At first, he was generous. He paid me regularly and gave me a room. But after a few months, he began treating the women who worked there like they belonged to him.”

Her voice became quieter.

“I tried to leave. He told me I owed him money for the room, food, and everything he’d supposedly done for me.”

“And the fire?”

Maren closed her eyes briefly.

“One night, I heard someone calling for help from the storage room. A young kitchen girl had been locked inside after an argument with Pike. I went to open the door.”

Her fingers trembled.

“There was an overturned lantern near the entrance. The curtains caught fire. Within minutes, the whole room was burning.”

Silas felt his stomach тιԍнтen.

“Did you get the girl out?”

“Yes. But the fire spread quickly. I couldn’t get everyone outside before the smoke filled the hallway.”

She stopped.

The kitchen clock ticked.

“I was burned trying to reach the back room. When I finally escaped, Pike told the sheriff I had deliberately started the fire. He said I had stolen his money and run away.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

Her answer was immediate.

“Then why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Maren looked at him.

“Because Pike had witnesses who would say whatever he wanted. Because I had no money. Because nobody believed a poor woman with scars and no family.”

Silas looked down at her hands.

“And the tin box?”

For the first time, something changed in her expression.

Fear.

Real, unmistakable fear.

She glanced toward the small box she kept beside her trunk.

“That contains the only thing he has been searching for.”

“What?”

Maren stood.

“I can’t tell you.”

Silas’s jaw тιԍнтened.

“You live under my roof. A man is looking for you. I have a right to know what kind of trouble is coming to my ranch.”

She looked directly into his eyes.

“Then perhaps I should leave.”

Silas hadn’t expected that answer.

“Why?”

“Because trouble has followed me everywhere I’ve gone. I won’t bring it to your son.”

Silas rose from his chair.

“You’re not leaving tonight.”

“Mr. Crane—”

“I hired you to cook. I never said you had to disappear when things became difficult.”

Maren stared at him.

For the first time, his voice didn’t sound like an order.

It sounded like protection.

But neither of them knew how soon they would need it.

Three days later, Wesley came running into the kitchen.

“Father! There’s a rider at the gate!”

Maren looked through the window.

A black horse stood outside the ranch entrance.

The rider wore a dark coat and carried a silver-handled walking stick.

Even from a distance, Maren recognized him.

Gideon Pike.

She dropped the dishcloth.

Her face went pale.

Silas entered the kitchen moments later.

“Stay here,” he told her.

But Maren caught his sleeve.

“Please don’t let him inside.”

Silas looked down at her hand.

It was trembling.

“Whoever he is, he doesn’t get to frighten you in my house.”

He walked onto the porch.

Gideon dismounted with a pleasant smile.

“Mr. Crane, I presume?”

“That’s right.”

“Beautiful property. I hope you don’t mind an unexpected visitor.”

“What do you want?”

Gideon removed his hat.

“I’m looking for a woman. Maren Hale. Formerly employed at my establishment in Cheyenne.”

Silas didn’t move.

“She’s not here.”

Gideon smiled.

“Interesting. I was told she was working in your kitchen.”

Silas stepped closer.

“Whoever told you that should learn to mind his own business.”

Gideon chuckled.

“Now, there’s no reason for hostility. The woman stole something belonging to me. I’m simply here to retrieve it.”

“What did she steal?”

Gideon’s smile disappeared for half a second.

“Personal property.”

“Then bring the sheriff and your evidence.”

“I don’t think you understand, Mr. Crane.”

Gideon leaned forward.

“That woman has something that could ruin several respectable men. You don’t want to involve yourself in this.”

Silas’s expression hardened.

“Get off my property.”

Gideon put his hat back on.

“Very well. But I’ll return.”

He mounted his horse and rode away.

Silas watched until the rider disappeared beyond the cottonwoods.

Then he turned toward the house.

Maren was standing in the doorway.

“You should have let him take me,” she whispered.

Silas shook his head.

“Not happening.”

That night, Wesley fell asleep at the kitchen table.

Maren covered him with a blanket.

When she turned around, Silas was standing by the stove.

“You don’t have to tell me everything tonight,” he said.

She looked surprised.

“But I need to know whether that man intends to hurt my son.”

Maren’s eyes filled.

“He will if he believes Wesley knows anything.”

Silas went still.

“What does my son have to do with this?”

Maren reached for the tin box.

For several moments, she held it against her chest.

Then she placed it on the table.

“I didn’t steal money from Gideon Pike,” she whispered.

“I stole something much more valuable.”

She opened the box.

Inside lay a bundle of old letters, several folded documents, and a small pH๏τograph of a young woman standing beside a little girl.

Silas picked up the first document.

His expression changed as he read it.

It was a signed statement from a woman who had disappeared after the boardinghouse fire.

And beneath her signature was a name Silas recognized.

Elizabeth Crane.

His ᴅᴇᴀᴅ wife.

Silas looked up slowly.

“What in God’s name is this?”

Maren’s voice broke.

“Your wife wasn’t the only person who knew what Gideon Pike was doing.”

She pointed to the letters.

“Elizabeth had been helping me gather evidence against him. She was going to take those documents to the authorities.”

Silas gripped the table.

“Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Because she was afraid he would come after you and Wesley.”

Maren took a trembling breath.

“She gave me those papers the day before the fire.”

Silas stared at the pH๏τograph.

His wife had been holding a little girl.

A child he had never seen before.

Then Maren said something that made the room seem suddenly colder.

“Mr. Crane, there’s something else. Elizabeth asked me to find someone after she died.”

“Who?”

Maren looked toward the staircase.

“Her daughter.”

Silas stopped breathing for a moment.

“Elizabeth only had one child.”

Maren shook her head.

“No, Mr. Crane. She had another child before she married you.”

And suddenly, Silas understood why Gideon Pike had followed Maren all the way to Wyoming.

Because the woman in the pH๏τograph wasn’t a stranger. And the truth about Elizabeth’s past was about to tear apart everything Silas believed about his marriage.