On the second evening, they reached a small settlement called Red Creek.
There, they stopped at a boardinghouse owned by a widow named Martha Ellis.
Martha had known Thomas Reed and James Bennett. When Hannah introduced herself, the older woman took her hands and began to cry.
"I thought you'd never come home."
Hannah embraced her.
"I should have come sooner."
Martha shook her head.
"You were a child. None of this was your fault."
They spent the night in a small room above the kitchen.
Noah sat by the window, watching the street.
Hannah came to stand beside him.
"Do you think we'll make it?"
He looked at her.
"I don't know."
She nodded.
"At least you're honest."
He smiled faintly.
"Most people prefer a comforting lie."
"My father used to say that the truth is like a wild horse. You can try to tie it up, but sooner or later it'll break free."
Noah glanced toward the bed.
"Your father sounds like a wise man."
"He was."
She paused.
"Do you ever wish you'd known him?"
Noah thought about it.
"Sometimes. But I think I knew more of him than I realized. He and my father were both trying to protect something bigger than themselves."
Hannah looked at him.
"And what are you trying to protect?"
He met her gaze.
"The truth."
For a moment, the world outside seemed to grow quiet.
Hannah reached for his hand.
Noah did not pull away.
They stood together by the window until the first light of dawn appeared over the rooftops.
Then a knock sounded at the door.
Martha entered, her face pale.
"There's a man downstairs asking for you."
Noah reached for his revolver.
"Who?"
Martha swallowed.
"He says his name is Daniel Price."
Hannah froze.
"That's impossible."
Martha shook her head.
"He says he's the son of the surveyor who was murdered."
Noah looked at Hannah.
The past had just opened another door.
And someone had walked through it.
Daniel Price was waiting in the boardinghouse kitchen.
He was a thin man in his fifties, with silver hair and a deep scar across his left cheek. He wore a plain brown coat and carried a leather satchel.
When Noah entered, Daniel stood.
"Mr. Bennett."
Noah studied him.
"You said your father was Daniel Price."
"Yes."
"He's been dead for thirty years."
Daniel nodded.
"That's what the newspapers said."
Hannah stepped forward.
"Who are you?"
Daniel looked at her for a long moment.
Then he removed a folded photograph from his satchel.
It showed a young man standing beside a woman and two little girls.
The woman was holding a baby.
"My mother," Daniel said. "My sisters. And me."
Hannah stared at the photograph.
"How old were you when your father died?"
"Twenty-two."
Noah frowned.
"Then you were old enough to remember what happened."
Daniel nodded.
"I remember everything."
He explained that after his father disappeared, the family had been threatened by Crowley's men. His mother was forced to leave Montana, and Daniel was told that speaking about the murder would put his sisters in danger.
For years, he worked as a railroad clerk under an assumed name. He copied documents, recorded payments, and waited for an opportunity to expose the men responsible.
"I thought I had lost everything," he said. "Then I received a letter from Thomas Reed."
Hannah leaned forward.
"When?"
"Two weeks before he died."
Daniel opened the satchel and produced a letter.
The paper was faded, but the handwriting was unmistakable.
Thomas Reed had written that the original records were hidden beneath the Reed property and that James Bennett was preparing to bring the evidence to Helena.
He had also included a list of names.
One of them was Daniel Price.
"My father trusted yours," Daniel said. "He believed James would finish what they started."