PART 4 — THE WOMAN WHO BROUGHT BACK MORE THAN MEAT

The blizzard swallowed Abigail Prescott before she had taken twenty steps beyond the ranch gate.

Snow struck her face like handfuls of broken glᴀss. The lantern in her hand flickered violently, and the rope over her shoulder dragged through the deepening drifts.

Behind her, twenty starving men waited beside a dying fire.

She had promised them food.

And Abigail Prescott had never been a woman who broke a promise.

The blood trail Wyatt had described was almost invisible now. She followed it slowly, stopping whenever the wind erased her footprints. Twice she stumbled into snowdrifts deep enough to reach her waist. Once, the lantern nearly slipped from her hand.

Then she heard something.

A faint scratching.

Not far ahead, beneath the twisted branches of a fallen pine, a dark shape moved.

Abigail approached carefully.

It was the stag.

The animal had been ᴅᴇᴀᴅ for days, but the wolves had not completely reached it. More importantly, beside the animal lay something unexpected: a leather saddlebag, half buried beneath the snow.

She pulled it free.

The bag was frozen stiff.

Inside were several folded papers, a small silver pocket watch, and a letter bearing the unmistakable seal of the Dakota Land and Cattle Company.

Abigail frowned.

Why would anyone leave such things beside a ᴅᴇᴀᴅ animal?

She tucked the papers inside her coat and concentrated on the task that had brought her there.

Getting the stag back to the ranch would be difficult.

She secured the rope around the animal and began the exhausting journey toward Whispering Pines.

It took nearly two hours.

By the time the ranch house appeared through the snow, Abigail’s legs trembled beneath her, her coat was soaked, and her fingers had grown painfully stiff.

But she was dragging the stag behind her.

When she reached the barn, the door opened.

Caleb Thornton stood there holding a lantern.

He looked at the animal.

Then at Abigail.

For several seconds, he couldn’t speak.

“You actually found it.”

“I did.”

“Miss Prescott, you’re either the bravest woman I’ve ever met or the most stubborn.”

Abigail gave him a tired look.

“At the moment, Mr. Thornton, I’m too hungry to decide which.”

For the first time in weeks, Caleb laughed.

It was a weak, broken sound, but it was laughter.

Together, they brought the meat into the kitchen.

Abigail immediately took charge.

She knew better than to serve large portions to men whose bodies had been deprived of proper nourishment for so long. She began with small servings of warm broth, carefully prepared and distributed under her supervision.

The potatoes went into the largest iron pot.

The meat was prepared separately, with portions reserved for the following days.

Soon, the kitchen filled with a smell that seemed almost miraculous.

Warm food.

Real food.

The smell traveled through the house.

One by one, the cowboys began appearing in the doorway.

Some leaned against the walls.

Others needed ᴀssistance.

A seventeen-year-old named Wyatt stared at the pot with tears gathering in his eyes.

“Is that really supper?”

Abigail turned toward him.

“Unless you think I’ve been boiling snow for entertainment.”

A few men chuckled.

Then she began serving them.

Not one man complained about the small portions.

They ate slowly, following her instructions, their eyes fixed on the woman who had walked into a blizzard and returned with their first real hope.

Caleb was the last to receive his bowl.

He sat near the stove, looking down at the steaming broth.

“I don’t know how we’ll ever repay you.”

Abigail placed another piece of wood beside the fire.

“Start by staying alive.”

But the evening brought something more troubling than hunger.

After the men had settled, Abigail returned to the saddlebag.

She spread the papers across the kitchen table.

Caleb recognized the company seal immediately.

His expression changed.

“Where did you find those?”

“Near the stag.”

He picked up the first document.

His hands began to shake.

It was a copy of a land transfer agreement.

The document claimed that Caleb had agreed to sell the entire Whispering Pines property to Josiah Caldwell.

There was only one problem.

Caleb had never signed it.

“That’s a forgery,” he whispered.

Abigail studied the signature.

“Then someone has gone to considerable trouble to make it look real.”

Caleb turned another page.

It contained a list of names.

Suppliers.

Freight operators.

Mercantile owners.

Even the name of the local bank manager.

Every person who had helped isolate Whispering Pines appeared on that list.

At the bottom was a handwritten note:

Once Thornton and his men are gone, the water rights transfer becomes uncontested.

Caleb sank into his chair.

“He’s not trying to buy my ranch anymore.”

“No,” Abigail replied.

“He’s trying to make sure nobody is left alive to challenge him.”

Neither noticed the young cowboy standing in the doorway.

Wyatt had heard everything.

And he looked terrified.

“Mr. Thornton,” he whispered.

Caleb turned.

“What is it, boy?”

Wyatt swallowed.

“I know who carried those papers.”

Abigail slowly lifted her eyes.

“Who?”

Wyatt looked toward the dark window.

“Your former foreman. Silas Reed.”

Caleb’s face went pale.

Silas had disappeared three weeks earlier, shortly before the winter supplies were destroyed.

Everyone had ᴀssumed he had abandoned the ranch.

But Wyatt shook his head.

“He didn’t leave because he was afraid. He left because he was working for Caldwell.”

Abigail folded the papers carefully.

Outside, something creaked against the frozen barn.

Then came three sharp knocks at the kitchen door.

Every man turned.

A voice called through the wood.

“Thornton! Open up!”

Caleb struggled to stand.

He recognized that voice.

It belonged to Silas Reed.

And he wasn’t alone.

There were at least six horses outside.