By noon, Elias Boone was officially a criminal.
The notice reached Willow Creek by telegraph and traveled through town faster than fire through dry prairie.
WANTED FOR ARREST.
ELIAS BOONE.
Kidnapping.
Felony assault.
Theft of private property.
Attempted murder of Sheriff Everett Cole.
Caleb Hart read the paper twice, then carried it into Doctor Hart’s clinic.
Elias was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee.
Caleb dropped the notice in front of him.
“You’re famous.”
Elias read it.
“Hm.”
“That’s your reaction?”
“Spelling’s correct.”
Caleb stared at him.
“I’m beginning to understand why you never married.”
Doctor Hart snorted from across the room.
Elias folded the notice.
“How long before another sheriff comes?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Whether Cole sent it statewide.”
“He will.”
Samuel entered.
“He already did.”
Hannah appeared at the hallway entrance using a wooden cane.
Elias stood immediately.
“You should be resting.”
“I’ve rested enough.”
“You nearly died yesterday.”
“And today I didn’t.”
She crossed the room carefully.
Her steps were painful, but possible.
Doctor Hart had explained that nothing was broken. The ligaments and muscles had been severely strained, and infection from untreated wounds had caused the fever.
Recovery would take time.
But recovery was possible.
Hannah sat at the table.
Elias slid the wanted notice away.
Too late.
She saw it.
“This is because of me.”
“No.”
“Elias.”
“It’s because Cole is crooked.”
“You wouldn’t be involved if you hadn’t found me.”
“I did find you.”
“And now?”
He looked at her.
“Now we finish it.”
The red ledger lay hidden beneath a loose floorboard in Samuel’s clinic.
They had spent the morning reading it.
Hannah had told the truth.
Every page contained dates, initials, property descriptions, payments, and coded notes.
At first glance it looked like ordinary bookkeeping.
Hannah explained the abbreviations.
EC—Everett Cole.
JW—Judge Charles Weller.
RM—Robert Mason, president of Prairie State Bank.
The transactions stretched over six years.
Dozens of ranches.
Thousands of dollars.
The Renner entry was especially chilling.
J.R. dispute solved.
Payment to E.C.—$200.
Property transfer completed three days later.
No legal proof of murder.
But enough to raise serious questions.
“We need Harper,” Caleb said.
Federal Judge Nathaniel Harper was currently holding court in Topeka.
More than a hundred miles away.
Elias looked at Hannah.
“You can’t ride.”
“I can travel by wagon.”
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You enjoy telling me no.”
“Only when you suggest terrible ideas.”
“You rode alone into a church surrounded by armed men.”
“Caleb came.”
“That does not improve your argument.”
Caleb raised his cup.
“She’s got you there.”
Elias ignored him.
Hannah leaned forward.
“That ledger means nothing if it stays hidden here.”
“We send it.”
“With who?”
Silence.
Every trustworthy person who carried it became a target.
Lucy entered from the back room.
“What about the train?”
Everyone looked at her.
“The railroad stops at Rockford,” she said. “Mrs. Bell’s nephew works there.”
Rockford was twenty miles east.
Hannah shook her head.
“Cole will watch the station.”
“Not for me.”
Hannah stared at her sister.
“No.”
Lucy crossed her arms.
“You don’t get to keep doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Protecting me by getting hurt yourself.”
The words landed hard.
Lucy’s voice trembled.
“You went back to Silas because of me.”
“He threatened you.”
“I know.”
“You were sixteen.”
“I still am.”
Hannah looked away.
Lucy came closer.
“You always tell me being afraid doesn’t mean being helpless.”
Hannah’s eyes filled.
“I was wrong.”
“No. You weren’t.”
Lucy sat beside her.
“We send copies.”
Elias frowned.
“Copies?”
Lucy pointed toward the ledger.
“Make three.”
Caleb smiled slowly.
“That’s not bad.”
Samuel nodded.
“One to Harper.”
“One to the state attorney,” Elias said.
Hannah added, “One to a newspaper.”
That was even better.
Destroy one copy, two remained.
By evening, three handwritten copies of the most important pages existed.
Hannah worked despite her shaking hands.
Lucy helped.
Samuel notarized statements regarding Hannah’s condition.
Caleb prepared horses.
Elias watched the windows.
The plan was simple.
Which meant it would probably fail.
Three riders.
Three directions.
Caleb would carry a copy north to a newspaper editor in Manhattan.
Tom Hart would take another east by rail addressed to the state attorney.
Elias would carry the original to Judge Harper.
Hannah hated the last part.
“You’re wanted.”
“Exactly.”
“That does not make traveling easier.”
“Cole expects me to hide.”
“So?”
“So I won’t.”
She stared at him.
“Do you always solve problems by doing the opposite of what makes sense?”
“Usually.”
That tiny almost-laugh appeared again.
Elias had begun watching for it.
The first time he had seen Hannah, she had been consumed by pain and terror.
Now fragments of the woman she had been before Silas were returning.
Sharp.
Intelligent.
Dryly funny.
Stubborn enough to challenge Elias Boone while barely able to cross a room.
He liked that more than he should.
Their eyes held a moment too long.
Hannah looked away first.
“Come back.”
Two words.
Elias felt them more deeply than expected.
“I plan to.”
“No.”
She looked at him again.
“Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like men say things before they ride into danger.”
“I don’t know how men say things before riding into danger.”
“You just did.”
He almost smiled.
“Hannah.”
“What?”
“I’m coming back.”
She believed him.
He could see her trying to.
Before midnight, the plan began.
Tom left first.
Then Caleb.
Elias waited another hour.
He carried the original ledger beneath his coat and Hannah’s sealed statement inside his saddlebag.
He was preparing to mount when Hannah stepped onto the clinic porch.
Barefoot.
Wrapped in a shawl.
Elias frowned.
“You shouldn’t be outside.”
“I needed to tell you something.”
He waited.
“If Judge Harper asks why I didn’t report Silas earlier…”
“He won’t.”
“If he does.”
Elias listened.
“Tell him I tried.”
Hannah’s eyes lowered.
“Three times.”
“To Cole?”
“Once.”
That explained why she never trusted law enforcement again.
“Who else?”
“Judge Weller.”
Of course.
“And?”
“Pastor Reed.”
Elias knew the old pastor.
“He told me marriage required patience.”
Anger moved through Elias again.
Hannah continued quietly.
“He said Silas was respected and I should avoid destroying a man’s reputation with emotional accusations.”
Elias looked toward the dark street.
“People like simple stories.”
“What?”
“Good husband. Difficult wife. Honest sheriff. Respectable judge.”
He looked back at her.
“Truth makes simple people uncomfortable.”
Hannah studied him.
“You don’t talk much.”
“No.”
“But when you do, it’s usually something strange.”
He smiled slightly.
“Go inside.”
She surprised him by reaching up and touching his cheek.
Her fingers rested near the scar.
Elias became completely still.
“Come back,” she whispered.
Then she turned and went inside.
Elias rode before he could think too much about what that touch meant.
He traveled southeast first, deliberately moving away from Topeka.
At dawn, he changed direction.
By midday, he had crossed two counties.
No pursuit.
He began to hope the deception worked.
Hope lasted until he reached Cottonwood Crossing.
Three deputies waited near the bridge.
Not Cole’s men.
County officers who had seen the wanted notice.
Elias stopped fifty yards away.
One raised a hand.
“Boone?”
Elias considered lying.
The man held the poster.
No point.
“Yes.”
“You’re under arrest.”
“On whose authority?”
“State warrant transmitted from Miller County.”
“Everett Cole?”
“Yes.”
Elias reached slowly inside his coat.
All three deputies raised rifles.
“Easy!”
He pulled out the ledger.
“This is evidence against Cole.”
One deputy frowned.
“What?”
“You arrest me and give me to him, this disappears.”
The eldest officer stepped closer.
“Put the book down.”
“Read page thirty-seven.”
“Put it down.”
Elias did.
The deputy picked it up.
Opened page thirty-seven.
His expression changed.
Elias watched.
The page listed a payment associated with the seizure of the Anderson Ranch.
The oldest deputy apparently knew the family.
“This real?”
“Yes.”
“Could be forged.”
“Then take me to Judge Harper.”
“We’re supposed to transfer you to Cole.”
“That would be convenient for him.”
The man looked at his partners.
Uncertainty.
Good.
Then a rifle fired from the trees.
One deputy fell.
Chaos exploded.
Elias dove behind the bridge railing.
More shots.
Not deputies.
Ambush.
The eldest officer shouted, “Cover!”
Elias drew his revolver.
A bullet struck wood inches from his head.
Two riders burst from the brush.
Cole’s men.
Not wearing badges.
They weren’t here to arrest him.
They were here to kill him.
The deputies realized it too.
They returned fire.
One attacker fell from his horse.
The other fled.
Then more hoofbeats approached.
Five men.
Elias cursed.
The elder deputy grabbed the ledger.
“Boone!”
“What?”
“There’s a canyon trail south!”
“You?”
“We’ll hold!”
Elias looked at the wounded deputy.
Blood covered his shoulder but he was conscious.
Elias hesitated.
The elder man threw the ledger at him.
“Go!”
Elias caught it.
Mounted.
Rode.
Bullets followed.
His horse plunged down the narrow canyon trail.
He heard riders behind him.
For two miles, the chase continued.
Then the trail split.
Elias took the rockier branch.
His horse nearly stumbled.
The pursuing riders chose the wider route.
By sunset, Elias reached a small farming settlement.
He changed horses.
Paid double.
Continued.
Thirty-six hours after leaving Willow Creek, he entered Topeka exhausted, dusty, and wanted.
Finding Judge Harper proved harder than expected.
Court had adjourned early.
Harper was at the governor’s residence attending a dinner.
Elias looked down at himself.
Dust.
Blood from a graze along his arm.
Two days without shaving.
Perfect.
He rode directly there.
Guards stopped him.
“I need Judge Harper.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tonight.”
“Move along.”
Elias pulled the ledger.
“Tell him this concerns Everett Cole, Charles Weller, and six years of fraudulent land seizures in Miller County.”
The guard’s expression changed.
“Wait.”
Ten minutes later, an older man with white hair appeared on the porch.
Judge Nathaniel Harper.
He looked Elias over.
“You Boone?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve seen your wanted notice.”
“I assumed.”
“You carrying a gun?”
“Yes.”
“Give it to the guard.”
Elias did.
Harper took the ledger.
“Come inside.”
Three hours later, everything changed.
Harper read.
Asked questions.
Read Hannah’s statement.
Reviewed Hart’s medical affidavit.
Examined property entries.
At midnight, he sent messages to the state attorney and federal marshal.
At one in the morning, another telegram arrived.
From Manhattan.
The newspaper had received Caleb’s copy.
At two, the state attorney confirmed receipt of Tom’s package.
Three copies.
Three destinations.
The evidence could no longer disappear.
Judge Harper looked at Elias.
“You understand this doesn’t prove every allegation?”
“Yes.”
“But it proves enough to open an investigation.”
“That’s all Hannah wanted.”
Harper studied him.
“She your wife?”
“No.”
“Family?”
“No.”
“Then why did you risk hanging for her?”
Elias thought about Hannah lying alone in the barn.
About her hand on his cheek.
About the way she had said come back.
“Because somebody should have helped sooner.”
Harper nodded slowly.
At sunrise, federal marshals rode toward Miller County.
Elias went with them.
He had promised Hannah he would return.
But when they reached Willow Creek the following afternoon, Doctor Hart’s clinic was empty.
The front door hung open.
Furniture had been overturned.
Blood marked the floor.
Elias ran upstairs.
“Hannah!”
Nothing.
“Hannah!”
Caleb appeared from behind the clinic, bruised and limping.
Elias grabbed him.
“Where is she?”
Caleb looked sick.
“Cole came before dawn.”
Elias’s heart stopped.
“Where’s Hannah?”
Caleb swallowed.
“They took her.”
“And Lucy?”
Caleb shook his head.
“She’s gone too.”