PART 2 — THE THREE RIDERS AT THE DOOR

The H๏τ spring was the first warmth Amily Ward had felt in three days.

She lowered herself into the stone pool, wincing as the heat reached her frozen fingers. Steam curled around her shoulders, and for several minutes, she simply sat there with her eyes closed.

Above her, the cabin creaked in the wind.

Outside, Harlon was somewhere in the blizzard.

And three men were following her.

Amily knew their names.

The tallest was Silas Vane, a hired tracker with a silver tooth and a habit of smiling whenever someone was frightened.

The second was Deputy Colter, who had once sworn to protect the people of Silver Creek.

The third was a man she had never met before.

But she knew what he wanted.

The small leather packet hidden inside her dress.

It contained her father’s final letter.

And if the men found it, the last piece of her family’s land would belong to them.

Amily climbed out of the pool and wrapped herself in Harlon’s enormous flannel shirt. The sleeves fell past her fingertips, and the hem reached almost to her knees.

She was still fastening the ʙuттons when the cabin door opened.

Harlon entered, carrying a bundle of firewood.

His beard was covered with snow.

“You’re warmer.”

Amily nodded.

Then she heard it.

A horse whinnying outside.

Harlon stopped.

Another sound followed.

The unmistakable crunch of boots approaching the porch.

He set the firewood down.

“Stay here.”

Amily’s stomach тιԍнтened.

“They found me.”

Harlon looked at her.

“Who?”

She swallowed.

“Three men. They attacked the stagecoach.”

His expression changed.

“Why?”

Amily hesitated.

Then she reached into the frozen folds of her discarded dress and pulled out the leather packet.

Harlon stared at it.

“My father owned a silver mine near Silver Creek,” she whispered. “He died six months ago. The mine was supposed to belong to me.”

She opened the packet.

Inside was a letter, a deed, and a small brᴀss key.

“But the men who run the mine say the land was sold before he died. My father told me that was a lie.”

Harlon examined the deed.

His eyes narrowed.

“Who signed this?”

“My father’s attorney.”

Harlon looked up.

“That man died two years ago.”

Amily nodded.

“I know.”

The knock at the door came again.

Harder this time.

Harlon folded the papers and handed them back.

“Put those somewhere safe.”

“Where?”

He glanced toward the bearskin rug.

“Under the floor.”

Before she could ask what he meant, he opened the door.

Three riders stood on the porch.

Silas Vane stepped forward.

“Evening, Harlon.”

Harlon remained in the doorway.

“Evening.”

“We’re looking for a woman.”

“Then you should try the town.”

Silas smiled.

“She came this way.”

Harlon looked at the horses.

“Storm’s bad. You boys should head back before the trail disappears.”

Deputy Colter stepped forward.

“This is official business.”

Harlon glanced at his badge.

“Funny. I don’t remember seeing that badge in this territory before.”

Colter’s smile vanished.

“Step aside.”

Harlon didn’t move.

For several seconds, the men stared at one another.

Then Silas leaned closer.

“We know she’s inside.”

Harlon’s voice remained calm.

“Then you’ll have to explain why you’re searching a private home without a warrant.”

Silas looked past him.

The cabin was warm.

The fire was burning.

And somewhere inside, a woman was hiding.

“She’s carrying stolen property,” Silas said.

Harlon raised an eyebrow.

“Then perhaps you should tell the sheriff.”

Silas’s hand moved toward his coat.

Harlon noticed.

So did Deputy Colter.

“Easy,” the deputy muttered.

Silas slowly withdrew his hand.

“We’ll be back.”

Harlon nodded.

“I’ll leave the porch light on.”

The three men turned toward their horses.

But before Silas mounted, he looked back.

“One more thing, Harlon.”

The mountain man waited.

“That woman isn’t what you think she is.”

Harlon’s expression didn’t change.

“Neither are you.”

The riders disappeared into the snow.

Harlon closed the door.

Amily was standing beside the fireplace, clutching the leather packet.

“They’ll come back.”

“Probably.”

“They’ll bring more men.”

“Possibly.”

She stared at him.

“Why aren’t you afraid?”

Harlon looked toward the window.

“Because I’ve lived here long enough to know the difference between a man who wants justice and a man who wants something he shouldn’t have.”

He turned toward her.

“Now tell me everything.”

Amily sat down.

And for the next hour, she told him the truth.

She told him about her father’s mine.

About the forged deed.

About the attorney who had disappeared.

And about the man who had offered to buy her land for a fraction of its worth.

His name was Silas Vane.

But he wasn’t working alone.

The man who had hired him was the most powerful businessman in Silver Creek.

A man named Everett Blackwood.

Harlon went very still.

Amily noticed.

“You know him?”

Harlon looked at the fire.

“I knew his father.”

He rose and walked toward the corner of the cabin.

There, beneath a heavy shelf, he opened a small wooden chest.

Inside were old maps, letters, and a pH๏τograph.

Harlon picked it up.

Amily stared.

The pH๏τograph showed three men standing beside a silver mine.

One was Harlon.

The second was Everett Blackwood’s father.

And the third was Amily’s father.

She looked up.

“How do you know my father?”

Harlon turned the pH๏τograph over.

On the back, in faded ink, were four words.

The mine belongs to us.

Amily’s breath caught.

Harlon looked at her.

“Your father didn’t just leave you a mine.”

He paused.

“He left you a secret.”

And before Amily could ask what that meant, a loud crash came from outside.

The cabin’s rear window shattered.

Harlon turned toward the sound.

Someone had returned.

But this time, it wasn’t one of the riders.

It was a woman.

And she was screaming his name.