Then a younger man emerged.
Tall.
Dark-haired.
Dressed in a gray suit.
He carried no luggage.
Caleb watched from the shadow of an abandoned freight shed.
"Who's that?" he asked.
Jonah studied the younger man.
"I don't know."
Mara stood beside them, her face partly concealed by a broad-brimmed hat.
"He looks like a lawyer."
"Or a gunman who learned to dress well," Caleb said.
Jonah smiled faintly.
"Still suspicious of everybody?"
"Only the ones who arrive with Harrow."
They had reached Red Hollow shortly before dawn.
Instead of entering town, they had hidden their horses in a dry wash and approached the railroad station on foot.
Jonah had spent the morning studying the depot.
He knew Harrow would arrive with documents.
He knew the company intended to finalize the northern valley transaction.
But he did not know where the testimony was being kept.
And without that testimony, the ledgers might not be enough to prove who ordered the Black Mesa killings.
Harrow greeted Sheriff Voss on the platform.
The two men shook hands.
From a distance, they appeared cordial.
But Caleb noticed the stiffness in Voss's posture.
The sheriff was nervous.
Harrow said something.
Voss nodded quickly.
Then the younger man in the gray suit stepped forward.
He handed Harrow a small envelope.
Harrow opened it.
Read the contents.
And looked directly toward the freight shed.
Caleb went still.
"Down."
They crouched behind a stack of crates.
Mara whispered, "Did he see us?"
"I don't know."
Jonah peered through a gap.
Harrow folded the letter.
Then he smiled.
Not warmly.
Not pleasantly.
It was the smile of a man who had just confirmed something he had suspected.
He turned toward Voss.
The sheriff's expression changed.
Caleb watched carefully.
Whatever Harrow said, Voss did not like it.
The two men entered a waiting carriage.
The younger man followed.
The carriage rolled toward the center of town.
Jonah rose.
"We need to follow them."
Caleb shook his head.
"Not yet."
"Why?"
"Because Harrow knows we're here."
Mara frowned.
"How?"
Caleb looked toward the station.
"Someone told him."
Jonah's expression darkened.
"Rook."
"Maybe."
Mara looked at the empty platform.
"Then what do we do?"
Caleb studied the private carriage.
A porter was removing trunks.
Two guards stood near the steps.
One carried a rifle.
The other watched the crowd.
Caleb's eyes narrowed.
"We find out what Harrow brought."
Jonah looked at him.
"You want to search the train?"
"Yes."
"With two guards?"
"Three."
Caleb pointed toward a man standing beside the coal wagon.
Jonah sighed.
"Of course."
Mara looked between them.
"How?"
Caleb smiled slightly.
"We create a distraction."
Jonah groaned.
"That phrase never ends well."
Caleb turned to Mara.
"Can you get close to the baggage office?"
She studied the station.
"Probably."
"There's a telegraph clerk inside. Ask him whether the eastbound train is carrying medical supplies for the county hospital."
Mara frowned.
"Why?"
"Because he'll have to check the manifest."
"And?"
"While he's distracted, Jonah can get behind the baggage platform."
Jonah stared at him.
"Why am I always the one crawling under things?"
"Because you're younger."
"By four years."
"Exactly."
Mara shook her head.
"You're both impossible."
But she was smiling.
For a brief moment, the weight of the past seemed lighter.
Then the station bell rang.
And the moment passed.
Mara approached the baggage office.
She adjusted her hat and stepped inside.
The telegraph clerk was a thin man with spectacles and ink-stained fingers.
He looked up.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm looking for a shipment."
"What kind?"
"Medical supplies."
"For whom?"
"The county hospital."
He frowned.
"We don't have a hospital."
Mara hesitated.
Then said, "The clinic."
The clerk studied her.
"Who sent you?"
"Reverend Weller."
The man's expression softened.
"Oh. The reverend."
Mara nodded.
"Yes."
He reached for the manifest.
"Let me check."
Outside, Jonah slipped behind the baggage platform.
Caleb remained near the freight shed, watching the guards.
The clerk turned pages.
"No medical supplies listed."
Mara leaned forward.
"Are you certain?"
"Quite."
"Could they be under another name?"
He sighed.
"Miss, I have forty-seven shipments to process."
"I understand."
She smiled politely.
"Perhaps you could check once more."
The clerk muttered something under his breath.
Then began reading the manifest again.
Behind the platform, Jonah found the private carriage's luggage compartment.
A heavy trunk stood near the door.
Its brass plate bore the initials E.H.
He examined the lock.
Then removed a thin piece of wire from his pocket.
"Come on," he whispered.
The lock clicked.
He opened the trunk.
Inside were neatly folded clothes.
A leather case.
And a small wooden box.
Jonah opened the box.
It contained a stack of letters.
He examined the first.
Then froze.
The letter was addressed to Edward Harrow.
It was dated October 19, 1870.
One day after Black Mesa.
Jonah read the first paragraph.
His face went pale.
He had found the testimony.
But it was not what he expected.
The letter was signed by William Pike.
It described the killings.
The payments.
The orders.
And the identity of the man who had arranged the ambush.
Jonah stared at the final page.
Then whispered, "No."
A shadow fell across the compartment.
"Looking for something?"
Jonah turned.
The younger man in the gray suit stood in the doorway.
He held a revolver.
Jonah slowly raised his hands.