Beneath the Burning Timber: The Wanted Outlaw Who Died to Save His Blood

The top document was a certified copy of the United States Supreme Court Injunction of 1874, ordering the immediate suspension of all railroad land grants in the Sweetwater District pending an investigation into fraudulent surveys filed by County Commissioner Samuel Danner.

Beneath the injunction were twenty-two original affidavits, signed and sworn before the Federal Territorial Judge at Laramie.

The first affidavit was signed by Clara Vale.

Eleanor’s eyes ran across the fading ink:

I, Clara Vale, formerly bookkeeper for the Danner Land & Timber Syndicate, do solemnly swear that on the fourteenth day of August, 1873, I witnessed Sheriff Silas Danner and Commissioner Samuel Danner forge the signatures of thirty-four deceased miners to transfer the water rights of Black Tooth Basin to the Northern Pacific Railroad Company.

Furthermore, I swear that my husband, Deputy U.S. Marshal Thomas Vale, was offered five thousand dollars in gold to deliver these falsified papers to the district court, which he refused.

If this document should be presented after my death, let it be known that my lawful children are the sole heirs to the original territorial land grant of Section 12, as established by the Homestead Act of 1862.

And pinned to the affidavit was a document that made Eleanor's heart stop entirely.

It was an official Certificate of Baptism and Bloodline, issued by the Post Chaplain at Fort Laramie, dated March 28, 1876.

It recorded the birth of twin infants:

Thomas Elias Vale and Clara Emma Vale.

Underneath the names, written in the firm, clear hand of the army chaplain, was the final note:

In the absence of the father, deceased in the line of duty, these infants are received into the care of their legal guardian, Daniel Arthur Hayes, surveyor, by order of the Sweetwater District Court.

"Thomas Elias," Eleanor gasped, her voice lost in the wind.

Noah was not named Noah. He had been named after his uncle—the giant who was dying in the cave beneath the logging flume.

And young Tom Vale, the deputy who was hunting them through the hills with a silver badge pinned to his coat, was not merely an orphan adopted by Danner’s charity. He was the older brother of the two infants Eleanor had nursed at her breast.

"Danner didn't just steal the land," Eleanor said, the cold truth settling into her bones with the weight of a mountain. "He stole the whole family."

A boot clicked against the river stone behind her.

Eleanor whirled around, her fingers instantly clawing for the handle of the spade.

Standing five feet away, his black coat soaked with rain, his Colt revolver drawn and cocked in his right hand, was Deputy Thomas Vale Jr.

The boy’s face was the color of a tallow candle.

Rain dripped from the brim of his black hat, running down his cheeks like grease. His gun hand trembled, but the black bore of the Colt Army was leveled directly between Eleanor’s eyes.

"Get away from the box, Mrs. Hayes," young Tom said, his voice cracking with a high, wild vibration. "Step away from Daniel's grave."

Eleanor did not rise. She stayed on her knees in the wet clay, her hand resting flat over the open iron dispatch box, her fingers pressing into the baptismal certificate.

"Did Danner send you to finish it, Tom?" she asked quietly. Her voice was remarkably steady, devoid of anger, carrying only a profound, grieving pity that seemed to rattle the young deputy more than a leveled rifle would have.

"Danner sent me to find the stolen strongbox," Tom answered, stepping closer, his boots sinking into the loose dirt of the mound. "He told me Elias Ward hid the payroll from Bitter Creek in Daniel's grave before he fled the territory. He told me that was why you stayed on this dry rock when any other widow would have gone back to her kin."

"Look into the box, Tom," Eleanor said, not moving an inch.

"Step back!" he shouted, cocking the revolver with a sharp clack. "I won't tell you twice, Eleanor! Danner has the warrant! You're an outlaw! You helped the man who murdered my father!"

"Your father wasn't murdered by Elias Ward, Tom," she said softly. "Your father was murdered by the man who bought you that shiny silver star."

"Shut your mouth!" the boy screamed. "You're lying! You're all lying! My father was a hero of the Sweetwater District! Silas Danner raised me! He gave me his brother’s horse! He put bread in my mouth when my mother died in the hospital!"

"Your mother didn't die in a hospital, Tom," Eleanor said, her voice rising now, cutting through the drumming of the rain against the cedar cross. "Your mother died in the dirt of the Presbyterian mission in Laramie. She died four days after she gave birth to your brother and sister."

The young deputy froze. His eyes flickered, his gaze darting from Eleanor's face to the iron box sitting in the open grave.

"What did you say?" he whispered.