Aldous laughed.

It was the laugh of a man who had never once been proven wrong about his own invincibility.

“Listen to you, Maren. Your husband couldn’t keep a roof over your head, and now you think you can threaten me?”

Maren тιԍнтened her grip on the broken glᴀss.

“My husband is ᴅᴇᴀᴅ. That doesn’t mean I am.”

Aldous twisted her hair harder.

“You owe two hundred dollars. That’s a lot of money for a woman with no land, no livestock, and no family willing to take her in.”

“I never borrowed two hundred dollars.”

“Your husband’s signature says otherwise.”

“He couldn’t write his own name.”

For the first time, Aldous stopped smiling.

Everett stood in the doorway, watching.

He had heard enough.

“Let her go.”

Aldous turned.

His eyes traveled over Everett’s unshaven face, worn coat, and broad shoulders.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Someone who asked you to let her go.”

Aldous laughed again.

“This is private business.”

Everett glanced at the woman’s bleeding hand.

“Doesn’t look private to me.”

“Get back to the front of the store, mountain man.”

Everett didn’t move.

Aldous released Maren’s hair and reached toward his belt.

That was when Everett raised his rifle.

The movement was so quick that Aldous barely had time to blink.

The hammer clicked into place.

“Take your hand away from that gun.”

Aldous froze.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then he slowly raised both hands.

“You wouldn’t shoot me over some widow.”

Everett’s expression didn’t change.

“Try me.”

Maren stepped away from the wall, keeping the broken glᴀss in her hand.

She pressed her bleeding palm against her skirt.

Aldous looked between them.

“This isn’t finished.”

Everett lowered the rifle slightly.

“It is for today.”

Aldous straightened his coat.

“You’ll regret sticking your nose into my affairs, Voss.”

Everett’s eyes narrowed.

“You know my name?”

“Everybody knows the man who lives alone on Thorn Ridge.”

Aldous backed toward the door.

Then he pointed at Maren.

“You’ve got until Friday. After that, I’ll collect what your husband owed me one way or another.”

He pushed past the doorway and disappeared into the store.

Everett listened to his footsteps crossing the floorboards.

Then he turned toward the woman.

“You hurt?”

Maren looked at her palm.

“It’s nothing.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

She studied him for a moment.

“Yes. I’m hurt.”

Everett nodded.

“There’s a doctor two streets over.”

“I can’t afford a doctor.”

“Didn’t ask if you could.”

He reached into his coat and produced a clean handkerchief.

“Wrap your hand.”

Maren accepted it cautiously.

“Why did you help me?”

Everett looked toward the door.

“Didn’t like the sound of that man’s voice.”

“That all?”

“That’s enough.”

She wrapped the cloth around her palm.

Then she looked at him with an expression that made him uncomfortable.

“Are you going back to the mountain?”

“Yes.”

“Could I come with you?”

Everett went still.

He had expected graтιтude.

Perhaps a few tears.

Maybe even a promise to repay him.

He hadn’t expected that question.

“No.”

Maren’s face didn’t change.

“Why?”

“Because I live alone.”

“So do I.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Why not?”

Everett looked at her.

“Thorn Ridge isn’t a place for a woman.”

Maren gave a humorless laugh.

“And this town is?”

He had no answer.

She stepped closer.

“Mr. Voss, I don’t need a husband. I don’t need a rescuer. I need somewhere I can sleep without worrying that a man will come through the door and drag me away.”

Everett looked at the blood on her hand.

Then at the bruise beginning to form near her temple.

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-two.”

“Any children?”

“No.”

“Family?”

“My parents died years ago. My husband was all I had.”

Everett nodded slowly.

“Then what happened to him?”

Maren’s expression changed.

“Winter fever. Last January.”

“Sorry.”

“He was a good man.”

Everett looked away.

“Good men die young sometimes.”

Maren studied his face.

Then she asked something that made him turn back.

“Did you ever have a wife, Mr. Voss?”

“No.”

“Children?”

“No.”

“Then why do you look like someone who lost both?”

Everett’s jaw тιԍнтened.

“That’s enough questions.”

He turned to leave.

But Maren spoke again.

“I can cook.”

He stopped.

“What?”

“I can cook. Sew. Keep accounts. Work a garden. I’ve spent most of my life doing things people don’t notice until nobody is doing them anymore.”

Everett looked over his shoulder.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You need someone to help with the cabin. I need somewhere safe to stay. We could make an arrangement.”

“I don’t need a housekeeper.”

“Then don’t call me one.”

He stared at her.

For the first time that morning, he almost smiled.

Almost.

Twenty minutes later, Everett returned to the front counter.

He placed the fox and beaver pelts on the wood.

“Finish my order.”

The merchant looked relieved.

“Certainly.”

Everett pointed toward the back room.

“What’s Aldous talking about?”

The merchant’s expression immediately hardened.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

Everett placed a silver dollar on the counter.

“I’m asking again.”

The man sighed.

“Her husband borrowed money from Aldous Pike last summer. Supposedly two hundred dollars.”

“Supposedly?”

“He died before the debt came due.”

“And now Aldous wants the widow?”

The merchant looked toward the front window.

“Doris Peck runs a boarding establishment outside town. Aldous supplies her with women who owe him money. They work until their debts are paid.”

Everett’s face darkened.

“Work doing what?”

The merchant looked away.

“You know what kind of place it is.”

Everett did.

He had heard stories about Doris Peck’s establishment.

Men went there to drink, gamble, and purchase the company of women who had nowhere else to go.

“Does the woman owe anything?”

“Not according to me.”

Everett leaned forward.

“Then why is nobody helping her?”

The merchant gave a bitter laugh.

“Aldous owns half the businesses in town. The sheriff drinks at his table. His brother controls the freight wagons.”

Everett picked up his receipt.

“Sounds like a town full of cowards.”

The merchant’s face reddened.

“You don’t live here, Voss.”

“That’s becoming clearer every minute.”

When Everett returned to the back room, Maren was sitting on an overturned crate.

She had removed a tiny piece of glᴀss from her palm and was examining the wound.

“Ready?” he asked.

She looked up.

“Where are we going?”

“To get your things.”

Her eyes widened.

“You’ll take me?”

“For a while.”

“How long?”

“Until you find somewhere else.”

Maren stood.

“I can work for my keep.”

“I didn’t say you had to.”

“I won’t live under your roof without contributing.”

Everett picked up her small carpetbag.

“Then we’ll discuss it when we get there.”

They walked through the store together.

Outside, the town seemed unusually quiet.

Men standing near the saloon watched them.

A woman carrying a basket stopped walking.

Two children whispered beside the hitching post.

Maren kept her head high.

Everett noticed.

“People here know your business?” he asked.

“They know what Aldous tells them.”

“And what does he tell them?”

“That my husband was a drunk. That I encouraged him to borrow money. That I refused to pay his debts.”

“Was he a drunk?”

“No.”

“Did he borrow the money?”

Maren hesitated.

“He borrowed twenty dollars.”

Everett stopped.

“Twenty?”

She nodded.

“He needed medicine. Aldous offered to help.”

“And the paper says two hundred?”

“Yes.”

Everett looked at her.

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

“Because you didn’t ask.”

He considered that answer.

Then he continued toward the stable.

Maren lived in a small rented room behind the church.

There was almost nothing inside.

A narrow bed.

A wooden chair.

A cracked mirror.

And a small trunk beside the window.

Everett placed her carpetbag on the bed.

“That’s everything?”

“Almost.”

She opened the trunk and removed a folded pH๏τograph.

It showed a young man standing beside her.

Her husband.

Everett noticed how carefully she handled it.

“He looks like a decent fellow.”

“He was.”

Maren placed the pH๏τograph inside her coat.

Then she removed a small leather-bound book.

“What is that?”

“My husband’s account book.”

Everett looked at it.

“Why bring that?”

“Because I think it may prove Aldous is lying.”

She opened the book and turned several pages.

There were names, dates, amounts, and signatures.

Everett leaned closer.

He couldn’t read much of the handwriting, but one name appeared repeatedly.

Aldous Pike.

Maren pointed to a particular entry.

“Here. Twenty dollars. Medicine. August third.”

Everett examined the page.

Then he noticed something strange.

There were several other entries.

All involving loans to ranchers and shopkeepers.

All signed by Aldous.

And all carrying the same unusual mark beside the amounts.

A small black cross.

“What does that mean?”

Maren looked at him.

“I don’t know.”

Everett closed the book.

“Keep it safe.”

She nodded.

Then she looked at him.

“Mr. Voss, there’s something else.”

“What?”

“My husband told me before he died that if anything happened to him, I should never trust Aldous Pike.”

Everett stared at her.

“Why?”

Maren swallowed.

“Because my husband had discovered that Aldous was changing the amounts on people’s debt papers.”

Everett slowly looked toward the street.

Suddenly, the matter seemed considerably larger than a widow’s unpaid twenty dollars.

They left town shortly before noon.

Everett rode ahead, leading the pack mules.

Maren followed on a borrowed mare.

The trail climbed steadily toward Thorn Ridge.

By the time they reached the first pine forest, the settlement had disappeared behind them.

The silence was almost complete.

Maren looked around.

“Do you always live this far from everyone?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you get lonely?”

Everett didn’t answer.

After a while, she spoke again.

“You don’t have to tell me why.”

“Good.”

She smiled faintly.

They continued for another hour.

Then Everett suddenly raised his hand.

“Stop.”

Maren pulled her horse to a halt.

“What is it?”

Everett dismounted and examined the ground.

There were fresh hoofprints in the mud.

Three horses.

Perhaps four.

He looked toward the ridge.

“Someone’s been here.”

Maren’s face тιԍнтened.

“Could it be Aldous?”

“Maybe.”

He mounted again.

“Stay close.”

They rode faster.

When the cabin finally came into view, Maren stopped.

It stood in a clearing surrounded by pine trees, with a stone chimney and a small woodshed beside it.

Smoke was not rising from the chimney.

A narrow trail led toward a frozen creek.

It was the most isolated place she had ever seen.

Everett dismounted and helped her down.

“This is home,” he said.

Maren looked at the cabin.

Then at him.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s cold.”

“I’m used to cold.”

“You’ll change your mind by December.”

She smiled.

“I doubt it.”

Everett opened the door.

Inside was a single large room, a small kitchen, a wooden table, and two doors leading to separate sleeping spaces.

Maren stepped inside.

The place was clean but plainly furnished.

A rifle rested above the fireplace.

A stack of books sat beside the window.

And on the table was a small framed pH๏τograph.

Everett noticed her looking at it.

“That’s my brother.”

Maren glanced at him.

“Was?”

“He died twelve years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

Everett nodded.

“He had a wife. Two children.”

“What happened to them?”

Everett stared into the cold fireplace.

“They died in a winter storm while I was away trapping.”

Maren said nothing.

Then she understood.

This was why he lived alone.

This was why he didn’t want anyone looking at him.

He hadn’t simply chosen the mountain.

He had chosen to punish himself with it.

Maren quietly removed her coat.

“Where’s the firewood?”

Everett looked at her.

“What?”

“It’s freezing in here. Where do you keep the wood?”

“Outside.”

“Then let’s bring some in.”

He watched her walk toward the door.

“You don’t have to do that.”

She turned.

“I know.”

And somehow, those three words stayed with him.

That evening, Everett prepared venison stew.

Maren made bread from the flour he had purchased in town.

For the first time in six years, the cabin smelled like a home rather than a hunting camp.

They ate quietly.

After supper, Maren washed the dishes while Everett repaired a damaged rifle strap.

Then someone knocked.

Three sharp blows.

Everett immediately stood.

He reached for his rifle.

Maren froze.

“Who is it?”

A voice came from outside.

“Open up, Voss.”

Everett’s expression hardened.

He knew that voice.

Aldous Pike.

Everett stepped toward the door.

“Stay behind me.”

Maren placed the dishcloth down.

The door opened.

Aldous stood on the porch with two armed men.

His smile was gone.

“Evening, Voss.”

Everett raised his rifle.

“Turn around.”

Aldous laughed.

“You really think a gun changes anything?”

“What do you want?”

Aldous looked past him.

His eyes settled on Maren.

“I’ve come for what’s mine.”

Everett’s grip тιԍнтened.

“She isn’t yours.”

Aldous pulled a folded paper from his coat.

“According to this, her late husband owed me two hundred dollars. The debt is legally enforceable.”

Maren stepped forward.

“No, it isn’t.”

Aldous smiled.

“Still talking, widow?”

She reached into her coat and removed the leather account book.

“My husband kept records.”

For the first time, Aldous looked uncertain.

Maren opened the book.

“August third. Twenty dollars for medicine. You signed for it.”

Aldous’s expression changed.

She turned another page.

“September twelfth. Thirty-five dollars for livestock feed. Paid in full.”

Another page.

“October second. Forty dollars. Also paid.”

Everett looked at Aldous.

“You’ve been collecting the same debt twice?”

Aldous’s face darkened.

“Put that book away.”

Maren continued.

“There are eleven other families listed here. All with the same black cross beside their debts.”

One of the men behind Aldous shifted uneasily.

Everett noticed.

“What does the cross mean, Pike?”

Aldous didn’t answer.

Maren looked up.

“My husband said it meant the debt had already been paid. But you kept the original papers and changed the amounts.”

Aldous stepped forward.

“Give me that book!”

Everett raised the rifle.

“Take one more step.”

Aldous stopped.

Then he smiled again.

“You think this ends here?”

He looked directly at Maren.

“Your husband didn’t die of fever, woman.”

The room went completely still.

Maren’s face drained of color.

“What did you say?”

Aldous slowly adjusted his coat.

“Ask her what happened the night he died, Voss.”

Everett looked at Maren.

She was trembling.

Then Aldous delivered the words that changed everything.

“Your husband was coming to town with evidence against me. He never made it.”

Maren gripped the account book.

“No…”

Aldous smiled.

“Now you understand why I want that book.”

Everett stepped onto the porch.

His rifle remained aimed at Aldous.

“You’ve got five seconds to leave my property.”

Aldous backed away.

But before mounting his horse, he turned toward Maren.

“There’s one more thing you should know, widow.”

She stared at him.

“Your husband didn’t die alone.”

Then he rode into the darkness.

The door closed.

Maren stood motionless.

Everett placed the rifle against the wall.

“What did he mean?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

“Did your husband have enemies?”

“No.”

“Did he ever tell you he was afraid?”

She hesitated.

Then she opened the account book again.

A small folded piece of paper slipped from between the pages.

Everett picked it up.

It was a letter.

The handwriting was faint, but the words were clear.

Maren,

If Aldous comes looking for you, do not give him the book.

There is a second ledger hidden beneath the floor of the old church.

It contains the names of every man who helped him.

And one of those names belongs to the person who ordered me killed.

At the bottom was a final sentence.

Forgive me for not telling you sooner.

Maren covered her mouth.

Everett looked toward the window.

Outside, the wind was rising.

But the cold wasn’t what frightened him anymore.

Someone had murdered a man over a ledger.

And now the widow who carried the evidence was sleeping under his roof.

He turned toward Maren.

“We’re going back to town tomorrow.”

She looked up.

“Why?”

“Because we’re going to find that second ledger.”

“And if Aldous is waiting?”

Everett picked up his rifle.

“Then he’ll learn that Thorn Ridge has a very long memory.”

Maren stared at him.

Then, for the first time since her husband’s death, she felt something other than fear.

Hope.

But she didn’t know that the letter contained one final secret.

A secret Everett would discover only after they returned to Colton’s Ferry.

The person who had ordered her husband’s murder wasn’t Aldous Pike.

It was the town sheriff.

And the sheriff had been Everett’s closest friend for twenty years.

END OF PART 2 — PART 3: THE LEDGER BENEATH THE CHURCH.