But it was enough.
The Missing Horse
The next morning, Cole gave Hannah a rifle.
She raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Can you shoot?”
“My father taught me.”
“Show me.”
She fired.
The bullet struck near the center.
Cole moved the target farther away.
She fired again.
Closer.
Again.
Dead center.
Cole nodded.
“Your father taught you well.”
“He taught me everything.”
“Then he expected you to survive.”
Hannah lowered the rifle.
“Maybe.”
They left the cabin after breakfast.
The trail was difficult.
Snow covered old tracks.
Cole dismounted often.
Hannah watched him.
“You're looking for Ghost.”
“Yes.”
“You don't have to.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because you asked.”
That answer surprised her.
They traveled north for two days.
On the third morning, Cole found a strip of leather caught on a branch.
Hannah recognized it.
“My father's saddle.”
Cole examined it.
“Then Ghost came through here.”
They followed the trail.
Near sunset, a horse whinnied.
Hannah froze.
“Ghost.”
A gray stallion emerged from the trees.
He was thinner.
His mane was tangled.
But it was him.
Hannah dismounted.
Ghost walked directly toward her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck.
“You're alive.”
The horse lowered his head.
Hannah cried silently.
Cole gave her space.
Eventually she examined the saddle.
“This isn't mine.”
“Can you remove it?”
“Yes.”
She opened the saddle.
The leather had been replaced.
But beneath it was a false layer.
Hannah cut it open.
A folded page fell into her hand.
The missing ledger page.
She unfolded it.
Names.
Payments.
Dates.
Then a line:
The girl must never discover who her mother was.
Hannah looked at Cole.
“My mother?”
He read the page.
“There is more.”
At the bottom, in tiny writing, were words almost erased by time.
The mare remembers the road.
“What mare?” Cole asked.
Hannah thought.
“My father had twelve.”
“One special?”
“All his horses were special.”
Cole gave her a look.
She sighed.
“One.”
“Name?”
“Mercy.”
“Where is she?”
“Dead.”
“You're sure?”
Hannah stared toward the mountains.
“She died the winter before my father.”
Cole folded the paper.
“Maybe she didn't.”
They returned to the cabin.
That night, Hannah told him what she knew about Victor.
The mortgage.
The stolen horses.
The ledger.
The engagement.
The day he changed.
“He was different after my father died,” she said.
“How?”
“Before, he was patient.”
“And afterward?”
“Possessive.”
Cole looked at the brand.
“Did he ever ask about your mother?”
Hannah frowned.
“No.”
“Your childhood?”
“No.”
“Your father's old friends?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Eli Mercer.”
Cole's expression changed.
“He asked about my father's connection to Eli.”
“Did you tell him?”
“No.”
“Why?”