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

Chapter 6

“This is everything,” he breathed, scanning the papers. “Names, dates, amounts. They’ve been stealing property across three counties for over two years.”

Ruby looked over his shoulder at the ledger. “Look at this entry here. Payment to Judge Stevens for favorable rulings. And this one — Sheriff Morrison, monthly retainer for protection services.”

Sadi pointed to another page. “They’ve got a list of properties they plan to steal next. The Henderson spread, the old Murphy Place, even the church land.”

The sound of approaching horses interrupted their examination. Wade quickly stuffed the papers back into the envelope.

“How many pursuit routes are there from town?” he asked.

“Three main trails,” Clarabel answered. “But only one leads to the territorial capital.”

Wade’s mind raced. They could keep running, but these documents needed to reach honest authorities. The territorial marshal’s office was only a day’s hard ride north.

“We split up,” he decided. “Ruby, you take these documents and ride for the capital. Find Marshal Davidson. I met him last year. He’s honest. Show him these papers.”

“What about you?” Ruby asked, her voice sharp.

“Sadi and Clarabel know hiding places in these hills better than anyone. They can keep the hired guns chasing shadows until you get back with help.”

“And what about you?” Ruby repeated, stepping closer. Her green eyes searched his face. He saw something flicker there — not fear, but something rawer. Something she didn’t want him to see.

Wade checked his ammunition. “I’m going back to town. Time someone had a direct conversation with the man in the expensive suit.”

The plan was desperate. But it was all they had. Ruby’s hand found his arm — a brief, fierce squeeze that said everything words couldn’t carry. Then she was gone, the envelope pressed against her chest, her horse surging up the trail toward the north.

Sadi and Clarabel faded into the trees like ghosts, leading the pursuit into the maze of canyons they had explored since childhood.

And Wade turned his horse back toward town.

—

The ride back was the longest of Wade’s life.

He took the long way, circling wide through the brush country, keeping to the low ground where the shadows pooled thick and deep. Every sound was a threat — the snap of a twig under his horse’s hoof, the cry of a bird startled from its perch. His hand never left his gun.

From a ridge above town, he watched the hired guns stream out of the bank and mount up. He counted them as they rode past — seven men, including the sheriff, their horses kicking up dust that hung in the air like smoke. They were heading for the canyons, following the false trail Sadi and Clarabel had laid. Wade waited until the last rider disappeared over the ridge before he moved.

The town below him was a ghost of itself. No one on the streets. No one at the windows. The only movement was a dog trotting across the empty main street, disappearing into an alley. The bank sat at the far end, its windows dark, its door closed. But Wade knew the man in the expensive suit was still in there. He could feel it — the same way an animal feels a predator in the dark.

He left his horse tethered in a grove of cottonwoods and went the rest of the way on foot, keeping to the creek bed that ran behind the buildings. The water was cold against his boots, numbing his feet, but he welcomed the discomfort. It kept him sharp. Kept him focused on what he had to do.

He slipped through the cemetery, moving from gravestone to gravestone like a shadow crossing hallowed ground. The names on the stones blurred past him — Callahan, Morrison, Walker — the same families that had built this town, that now watched in silence as it rotted from within.

Most of the population was still hiding indoors, afraid of the violence that had erupted. The main street was empty, the shutters closed, the town holding its breath. Wade found the stranger from back east in the bank, frantically packing papers into a leather case.

The man looked up in shock as Wade stepped through the rear door, water dripping from his boots from the creek he had waded through to cover his approach. His expensive suit was wrinkled, his tie loosened, his composure cracked.

“Going somewhere?” Wade asked, his gun trained on the man’s chest.

The stranger straightened slowly, his hands hovering above the leather case. Up close, Wade could see the lines of stress around his eyes, the gray at his temples. He was older than he had looked from a distance. A man who had been running this game for a long time — and who had finally run out of road.

“You don’t understand the forces you’re dealing with, cowboy,” he said. “This operation has backing from very powerful people.”

“Had backing,” Wade corrected. “Past tense. Because right now, Marshal Davidson is reading documents that name every one of your investors, every official you’ve bought, and every property you’ve stolen.”

The color drained from the man’s face. “That’s impossible. We destroyed all the records.”

“All except the ones Clarabel saved,” Wade said with grim satisfaction. “Turns out, the quiet ones hear everything. Including where you hide things at night when you think no one is watching.”