The knocking came again.

“Gideon Cole!” a stranger shouted. “We’re looking for a runaway woman!”

Maeve stood frozen beside the stove.

Gideon quietly pointed toward the cellar.

“Go downstairs. Don’t make a sound.”

Outside stood three armed riders. The tallest smiled beneath his black hat.

“Name’s Silas Mercer. My wife has been missing.”

Gideon rested one hand against the doorframe.

“Nobody here by that name.”

Silas produced a folded photograph.

“Pretty woman. Red hair. Blue eyes. Terrible habit of lying.”

Gideon’s expression never changed.

“Can’t help you.”

Silas leaned closer.

“She’s carrying property that belongs to me.”

“Then take your complaint to the sheriff.”

The man’s smile vanished.

“Careful, mountain man. People disappear in these woods.”

Gideon slowly lifted his rifle.

“And some people underestimate who knows these mountains.”

The riders retreated, but Gideon knew they would return.

That evening, Maeve emerged from the cellar carrying a leather-bound ledger.

“I’ve ruined your life,” she whispered.

Gideon shook his head.

“You brought the truth to my door. That’s different.”

Together, they rode through the night to Sheriff Nathaniel Briggs, an old friend of Gideon’s.

The ledger revealed stolen land deeds, forged debts, and families forced from their homes. By sunrise, Briggs had summoned deputies and sent word to a federal marshal.

Silas was arrested two days