Chapter 30
Calvin’s gaze snapped to her. “You think I don’t know that?”
“I think anger makes you reckless.”
His mouth opened.
Mercer interrupted. “She is correct.”
Calvin glared at him. “I preferred you when you were threatening to cut off my foot.”
“An option I retain.”
Henrietta gathered the papers. Her exhaustion pressed down suddenly, heavy and absolute. She had not slept, her joints were swollen, and the warmth of the cabin had awakened every bruise earned on the mountain. Still, the figures in her mind refused to quiet.
“I need the ledgers,” she said.
Calvin’s eyes narrowed. “Tomorrow.”
“Today.”
“Henrietta.”
“The suspicious entries match the notice. If Silas manipulated the account, I need to compare every charge against every receipt.”
“You can barely stand.”
“And you cannot stand at all. Yet somehow we remain capable of disagreement.”
Mercer pointed toward the second bed in the adjoining room. “Both of you sleep for four hours.”
“No,” they said together.
The doctor stared at them.
Henrietta looked at Calvin.
Calvin looked back.
For the first time since their marriage, irritation passed between them without cruelty.
Dr. Mercer muttered, “God preserve this household.”
A knock sounded at the door.
All three turned.
The sound came again.
Not tentative.
Three hard blows.
Calvin’s expression tightened. “Who would be out in this?”
Henrietta felt something cold move through her that had nothing to do with the storm.
Mercer crossed to the window and wiped frost from the glass with his sleeve. He looked out.
His shoulders stiffened.
“Elias?” Calvin said.
The doctor did not answer.
Henrietta joined him at the window.
A black sleigh stood beyond the porch, its runners half buried in fresh snow. Two horses steamed in their harness. Beside them stood a mounted deputy with his coat collar raised against the wind.
And on the porch, removing his gloves with precise, unhurried movements, stood Silas Vane.
Henrietta’s exhaustion vanished.
Calvin saw her face. “Who?”
Before she could answer, the door opened.
Silas entered as though he had been invited.
Snow dusted the shoulders of his dark overcoat. His polished boots were wet but otherwise immaculate, an obscenity after the mountain. He removed his hat and surveyed the cabin, his gaze pausing briefly on Calvin’s splinted leg before settling on Henrietta.
“Well,” he said. “Mrs. Brooks. I heard you had an adventurous night.”
Calvin pushed himself upright. “Get out.”
Silas smiled faintly. “Good morning to you too.”