Chapter 12
The first pale light of dawn was just beginning to bleed across the jagged peaks of the northern ridge as Eli and Clara packed the bay mare for the ascent. The air was freezing, turning their breath into white plumes of mist in the crisp mountain morning. Eli secured the iron lockbox deep inside his saddlebag, wrapping it securely in extra woolen blankets to protect the ledger from the biting dampness of the high altitude.
They rode out of the cedar break in single file, Clara leading the way on the bay mare while Eli brought up the rear, his eyes constantly scanning the lower trails for any sign of pursuit. As they climbed higher, the pine trees thinned out, replaced by slate-grey rock faces and patches of stubborn, crusted snow that glittered coldly under the rising sun.
The trail narrowed until it was nothing more than a jagged shelf carved into the sheer side of the mountain, with a terrifying drop-off plunging straight down into the misty canyon far below. The mare picked her way carefully across the loose shale, her hooves clicking sharply against the stone.
Eli felt his old knee injury flare up with every jolt of the saddle, but he kept his face impassive, focusing entirely on the rhythm of the climb. He knew that if Miller’s enforcers had tracked them to the cedar break, this narrow pass was the only route across the range—which meant they either had to make it over the ridge before being spotted, or fight for their lives on a ledge where there was nowhere to run.
Halfway up the ascent, Clara pulled the mare to a sudden halt, raising a gloved hand to signal silence.
Eli reined in his mount beside her, leaning forward in the saddle. "What is it?" he whispered, straining his ears against the whistling mountain wind.
"Listen," she replied, pointing upward toward a rocky outcrop about a hundred yards ahead where the trail intersected a wider mining road.
Faintly, carried on the gusting wind, came the sound of iron horseshoes clacking against stone. Someone was already up on the ridge, moving down from the northern trail to cut them off.
"Miller," Eli said grimly, sliding his rifle out of its leather scabbard and checking the chamber with practiced familiarity. "They didn't wait for us to come to them. They circled around the lower basin and took the old mining road to head us off at the pass."
Clara didn't panic. She turned in the saddle, her expression calm and calculating. "There's an old ore chute just twenty yards back around the bend," she said quickly. "It leads down into the lower gully. If we can reach it before they clear the ridge, we can bypass their ambush entirely."
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"And the horses?" Eli asked, looking at the sheer drop.
"We leave them tied in the timber below the ridge," Clara said firmly. "We go the rest of the way on foot. It's the only way we don't get silhouetted against the skyline."
