I pull out my phone with trembling fingers, but the screen shows no service. “No signal,” I tell him, trying to keep the panic from my voice.
Caleb nods as if he expected this. “Okay. We walk back. Stay close to me.”
Scout growls again, more insistently this time, and we both turn to see a figure emerging from the trees.
Chapter 18
Lana
It’s a man, shrouded in dark clothing. He steps closer, and I instinctively move behind Caleb, one hand gripping the back of his jacket. Scout’s growl deepens, his body tense and ready to spring.
“Who are you?” Caleb calls out, his voice steady but with an edge—the tone of someone prepared for violence if necessary.
The figure stops about twenty feet away from us. He raises his hands slowly, showing they’re empty. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he says, “I just want to talk.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Richard Green, Margret’s ranch foreman. I apologize for the dramatic entrance—and for your tires. I needed to ensure you’d hear me out.”
“Slashing our tires is a strange way to start a conversation,” Caleb replies, his posture still defensive. Scout hasn’t relaxed either, which keeps my guard firmly up.
Richard sighs heavily. “I understand how this looks, but please—it’s about Margret. And Danny. There’s more to this story than you know.”
“We’re listening,” I say cautiously, though I don’t step out from behind Caleb.
“Not here,” Richard glances around nervously. “These woods have ears. I have a cabin about half a mile north. We can talk there.”
Caleb and I exchange a look. Following this man, who just disabled our vehicle, doesn’t seem wise, but we’re stranded either way. And if he wanted to harm us, he could have tried already.
“Why should we trust you?” Caleb asks, voicing my thoughts.
“Because Margret’s in danger,” Richard replies, his voice dropping. “And so are you, now that you’ve found that box.” He gestures to Caleb’s pack, where we’ve stashed our discovery. “The people coming for it won’t be as polite as I am.”
A chill runs through me that has nothing to do with the winter air. “What people?”
“Please,” he says, ignoring my question. “The cabin’s warm. I have coffee. And I can get you back to Jake’s afterward.”
Caleb turns to me, his voice low. “Your call. I don’t like it, but we don’t have many options.”
I consider our situation—stranded in the cold with potentially valuable documents and gold, someone following us even before Richard appeared, and no way to contact Jake. The smart move is to get to a safe place and figure things out.
“Lead the way,” I tell Richard, “But Scout stays between us.”
Richard nods in agreement and turns north, moving at a careful pace through the snow. Caleb and I follow, maintaining distance, with Scout padding vigilantly between us and our unexpected guide.
“Did you see anyone else out here?” I murmur to Caleb as we walk.
“No,” he replies quietly, “but Scout did. And it wasn’t Richard—he came from a different direction.”
This knowledge sits like ice in my stomach. Someone else is watching us, tracking our movements. I find myself scanning the trees constantly, jumping at every snapping twig.
After about twenty minutes of tense hiking, a small log cabin comes into view, nestled among towering pines. Smoke curls from its stone chimney, suggesting a warm fire within.
“Here we are,” Richard says, approaching the door. “It’s not much, but it’s secure.”
He unlocks the door and steps aside, allowing us to enter first—a gesture meant to reassure us, I suppose. The cabin interior is surprisingly cozy—a single room with a stone fireplace, a small kitchen area, a wooden table with chairs, and a narrow bed in one corner. The walls are lined with books and maps.
Scout sniffs every corner while Caleb positions himself where he can see both Richard and the door. I remain standing, unwilling to let my guard down completely.
