You’ll Satisfy Us Both, The Mountain Men Whispered to the Terrified Virgin Mail Order Bride

Chapter 8

Eleanor didn’t know how long she lay in the snow. The cold seeped through her clothes, numbing her body, slowing her thoughts. She stared up at the stars, watching them wheel slowly across the sky, and tried to remember how to move.

The satchel was still in her hand. She had saved it without thinking, the same way a mother saves a child from a fire — instinct, not bravery. The receipt was still in her coat. The Summit Mining Company receipt, signed by Sheriff Vane.

But the others were still inside.

She forced herself to stand. Her legs shook. Her head spun. The mountain rose behind her, silent and dark, the entrance to the mine buried under a fresh pile of debris. No sound came from within.

She was about to start digging with her bare hands when she heard it.

A cough.

She turned. A figure emerged from the trees, limping, covered in dust. Ezra. He was dragging something behind him — no, someone. Silas. His brother’s arm was wrapped around his shoulders.

“Ezra!” Eleanor ran toward them.

Ezra’s face was a mask of dust and blood. He dropped to his knees when he reached her, and Silas collapsed beside him. Both men were breathing, but barely. Their clothes were torn. Their faces were pale.

“The marshal,” Eleanor said. “Where’s the marshal?”

Ezra shook his head.

“No.” Eleanor’s voice cracked. “No, he was right behind us. He was —”

“He stayed behind.” Silas’s voice was barely a whisper. “He held them off so we could escape. Vane was trying to reach the back entrance. Whitfield blocked him.”

Eleanor looked back at the collapsed entrance. The mountain was still now. Silent. The only sound was the wind in the pines.

“We have to go back,” she said.

“We can’t.” Ezra’s hand closed around her wrist. “The whole shaft is gone. If we stay here, Vane’s men will find us. They’ll find the papers.”

Eleanor’s hand went to her coat. The receipt was still there. One piece of paper, folded and safe.

“What about Vane?” she asked.

“He got out,” Silas said. “He was heading for the front entrance when the ceiling came down. He’s alive. He’ll be looking for us.”

“Then he’ll come after us.”

“Yes.” Ezra pulled himself to his feet. “Which is why we need to move. Now.”

They made their way down the mountain, using the darkness as cover. The moon had set, leaving only starlight to guide them. Eleanor’s body screamed with every step, but she didn’t stop. The receipt burned against her chest like a brand.

By the time they reached the cabin, dawn was breaking over the peaks. The fire had gone out. The cabin was cold. But they were alive.

Eleanor collapsed into a chair. She pulled out the receipt and laid it flat on the table. The ink was still legible, the signatures still clear.

“One piece of paper,” she said. “Against a sheriff, a mining company, and God knows how many men.”

“It’s enough,” Ezra said. “If we can get it to Denver.”

“Vane will have the road watched.”

“Then we don’t take the road.”

Eleanor looked at him. “What do you mean?”

Ezra crossed to the map on the wall. He traced a line with his finger — a path that cut through the mountains, avoiding the main roads, crossing rivers and canyons and high passes.

“The old trail,” he said. “The one the fur trappers used before the mines opened. It’s longer, harder, and no one uses it anymore.”

“How long will it take?”

“Five days. Maybe six.”

Eleanor looked at the receipt. Then at the photograph of Nathaniel, still draped in black cloth on the mantle. She thought of the warmth of his letters, the hope she had carried across two thousand miles, the moment she had stepped off the stagecoach into the mud of a town that had already buried her future.

“Then we leave tonight,” she said.