He Moved Into an Abandoned Farm — But 3 Gorgeous Women Were Already There

Chapter 5

A tall man in an expensive suit stepped onto the bank’s porch. Even from a distance, Wade could see the man’s air of authority — the way the others deferred to him, the way he surveyed the street like a general surveying a battlefield.

“That’s not Harrison,” Sadi said. “I’ve never seen him before.”

Clarabel’s face had gone white. “I have. That’s the man I saw meeting with the bank agent three months ago. The one who was laughing about selling our property.”

Wade felt pieces clicking together in his mind. This wasn’t just a crooked bank manager cooking the books. This was an organized operation, run by someone with reach and resources.

“This operation’s bigger than just one small town bank,” he said. “They’ve got backing from somewhere else.”

The stranger in the suit was gesturing toward the hill, giving orders to the sheriff and his hired guns. Whatever he was saying, it made the men spread out, taking positions that would block all the main routes out of town.

“They’re not planning to arrest us,” Wade said grimly. “They’re planning to corner us.”

Ruby’s hand moved to her rifle. “Then we don’t give them the chance.”

But as they turned to retreat, Wade spotted movement on the ridge behind them. Two more riders were approaching from the north, cutting off their escape route. The trap was closing from both sides.

“We’re surrounded,” Clarabel said, her voice barely audible.

Wade’s mind raced, quickly surveying their options. To the east lay rough country — too dangerous for horses in daylight, with ravines that could break an animal’s leg. To the west, open ground that would leave them exposed for half a mile. Their only real choice was straight ahead, through town, past the very people trying to kill them.

“There’s another way,” Ruby said suddenly, following his gaze. “The old mining trail behind the church. It’s narrow, but it leads to the canyon. If we can reach it.”

A gunshot cracked across the valley, echoing off the hills. One of the riders behind them was signaling the men in town.

Wade’s decision was made. “We ride hard, straight through the main street. Stay low, stay together, and don’t stop for anything.”

He spurred his horse forward, the other three riders close behind him. They thundered down the hill toward the main street, hooves pounding against the hard-packed earth. The men outside the bank scrambled for position, but Wade had counted on their surprise at such a direct assault.

“Stay right behind me!” he shouted over his shoulder as they hit the edge of town.

The first gunshot rang out from the bank’s porch, the bullet whistling past Wade’s ear. He leaned low over his horse’s neck, drawing his own weapon. The sheriff and his hired guns were spreading out across the street, trying to create a crossfire, but they hadn’t expected the riders to come straight at them.

Ruby’s rifle cracked behind him, and one of the gunfighters stumbled backward, clutching his shoulder. The precision of her shot sent the others diving for cover behind water troughs and porch posts.

They raced past the general store, past the blacksmith shop, hooves striking sparks off the wooden boards of the main street. Wade could see the church ahead, and beyond it, the narrow trail Ruby had mentioned. But the man in the expensive suit was shouting orders, and more men were emerging from buildings along the street. This wasn’t just the sheriff and a few hired guns. The entire town seemed to be in on the conspiracy.

A shot from an upstairs window shattered the wooden sign above the saloon. Clarabel’s horse shied violently, nearly throwing her, but she managed to stay in the saddle.

“The trail!” Ruby pointed toward a gap between the church and the old mill.

Wade veered right, leading them off the main street just as a concentrated volley of gunfire erupted behind them. Wood splintered and dust flew, but they were already past the worst of it.

The trail was narrow, barely wide enough for a single horse. They rode in file now, Wade in the lead, climbing steadily into the rocky hills above town. Behind them, he could hear shouting and the sound of horses being saddled for pursuit.

After ten minutes of hard climbing, Wade called a halt in a grove of pine trees. They were far enough from town to risk a brief rest, and the horses needed it.

“Everyone all right?” he asked, checking each of them for injuries.

Sadi had a graze on her arm where a bullet had clipped her. “It’s nothing,” she said, but Wade could see the blood seeping through her sleeve. He tore a strip from his shirt and wrapped it tight around the wound. Her jaw was set, her eyes hard, but she didn’t flinch when he pulled the knot tight.

“They’ll be coming after us,” Ruby said, looking back toward town. “And they know this country as well as we do.”

Wade nodded grimly. Running would only delay the inevitable. They needed to end this. But how could four people fight an entire corrupt organization?

That’s when Clarabel pulled something from her saddlebag that changed everything.

“Before we left the house,” she said quietly, “I grabbed something I thought we might need.”

She held up a thick envelope sealed with red wax. The seal was unbroken, the paper heavy and official-looking. Wade’s breath caught. Even in the dim light of the pine grove, he could see the Frontier Bank letterhead embossed on the corner.

“These are the real bank records,” Clarabel said. “The ones Mr. Harrison thought he burned last month.”

Wade stared at the envelope. “How did you get those?”

Clarabel’s smile was small but determined. Her hands still trembled — from fear or adrenaline, Wade couldn’t tell — but her voice was steady. “Sometimes being the quiet one means people don’t notice when you’re listening at windows. Or watching when they think no one is watching.”

She explained in a low voice how she had followed the bank manager three weeks ago, seen him take a leather satchel from his office late at night, watched him build a fire in the alley behind the bank. He had thrown in papers one by one, watching them burn. But he had been interrupted — someone had called his name — and he had fled, leaving one envelope untouched in the dying embers. Clarabel had retrieved it, hidden it, and never told a soul until now.

Wade broke the seal on the envelope with trembling fingers. Inside were dozens of documents. Real deeds for properties the bank had stolen. Forged deeds showing the pattern of fraud. Correspondence between the bank and mysterious investors from back east. And most damning of all, a ledger showing payments to Sheriff Morrison and several other town officials.