## PART 2 FULL — THE HOUSE THAT NEVER SLEPT
""I was there.""
“”I was there.””
She stared at him.
“”The wagon accident,”” he said.
Hannah stopped breathing.
“”I was the first physician called.””
Elias felt the room tighten.
“”Was Hannah alive?”” he asked.
Harlan nodded.
“”Yes.””
Deputy Shaw whispered, “”The records say all three died.””
“”The records lied.””
“”Why?””
Harlan looked at Hannah.
“”Because Daniel Vale wasn’t an ordinary traveler.””
Hannah whispered, “”Who was he?””
“”An investigator.””
“”For whom?””
“”The federal government.””
Elias leaned against the table.
“”What was he investigating?””
“”Cattle theft. Land fraud. Bribery. Men buying judges and sheriffs. Miller was involved, but he wasn’t the highest name on Vale’s list.””
“”Who was?””
Harlan hesitated.
Then a rifle shot shattered the window.
Harlan jerked backward.
Blood spread across his shirt.
Martha screamed.
Elias dragged Hannah from the bed as another bullet tore through the wall.
Deputy Shaw knocked over the table.
“”Back door!””
They moved.
Martha cradled her brother.
Harlan was still breathing.
Barely.
Elias crouched beside him.
“”Who?””
Harlan’s blood-covered fingers seized Elias’s sleeve.
“”The cellar.””
“”Whose name is on the list?””
“”The cellar…””
His voice faded.
“”Under…the stone.””
Another gunshot struck the house.
Harlan’s grip loosened.
He died staring at Hannah.
Elias stood.
“”We move now.””
Martha refused to leave her brother until Shaw physically pulled her away.
They escaped through the kitchen and crossed into the orchard.
Behind them, men entered Harlan’s house.
Lanterns moved through the windows.
Three men.
Then four.
Elias counted silhouettes.
“”Silas?””
Hannah whispered.
“”No.””
“”Then who?””
Elias watched one man step into the moonlight.
Thin.
Black beard.
Part of his left ear missing.
“”Amos Reed.””
Hannah recoiled.
Elias raised his revolver.
Shaw caught his arm.
“”Too many.””
“”We can’t leave Harlan.””
“”He’s dead.””
“”Martha isn’t.””
They turned.
Martha was gone.
“”Elias.””
From the orchard came a muffled cry.
Then silence.
Shaw swore.
They searched between the trees.
Nothing.
Only Martha’s shawl lay beneath an apple tree.
Pinned to it with a knife was a folded note.
Elias opened it.
Four words.
BRING HANNAH TO MILLER.
Shaw whispered, “”They took her.””
Hannah began shaking.
“”I’ll go.””
“”No,”” Elias said.
“”They’ll kill Martha.””
“”They may kill her anyway.””
“”Then what do we do?””
Elias looked toward the distant lights of Miller Ranch.
“”We stop running.””
—
Two hours later, the moon hung above the prairie like a polished bone.
Elias, Hannah, and Deputy Shaw approached Miller Ranch from the north.
Hannah should not have been riding.
Every mile hurt her.
But she refused to remain behind.
“”If the cellar contains answers about my family, I’m seeing them.””
Elias had learned that arguing with her was pointless.
Pain had weakened Hannah’s body.
It had not weakened her will.
They tied their horses beside a dry creek bed.
Shaw checked his rifle.
“”There’s an entrance behind the smokehouse,”” Hannah whispered. “”Silas thinks I don’t know.””
“”How do you?””
“”I watched Amos use it.””
They crossed the field quietly.
The ranch appeared deserted.
No lamps.
No guards.
That bothered Elias more than armed men would have.
The smokehouse door opened without resistance.
Inside, Hannah moved aside a stack of wood.
Beneath it was an iron ring.
Elias pulled.
A wooden trapdoor lifted.
Cold air rose from below.
Stone steps descended into darkness.
Shaw lit a lantern.
They entered.
The cellar was larger than the house above.
Shelves lined the walls.
Crates.
Bottles.
Ledgers.
Weapons.
Elias opened one wooden case.
Winchester rifles.
Government issue.
“”Smuggling,”” Shaw whispered.
“”More than cattle theft.””
They went deeper.
Hannah stopped.
Ahead stood a wooden chair bolted to the floor.
Leather straps hung from its arms and legs.
She began breathing rapidly.
Elias stepped between her and the chair.
“”Don’t look.””
“”I have to.””
“”No.””
“”I said I have to.””
She forced herself past him.
On the wall were scratches.
Names.
Dozens of them.
Some only initials.
Some followed by dates.
CLARA V.
REBECCA C.
ELIZA M.
MARGARET V.
Hannah touched the final name.
Her mother’s.
“”No.””
She stumbled backward.
“”My mother died in the wagon.””
Elias examined the inscription.
Beside MARGARET V. was a date.
Three months after the supposed accident.
Hannah stared.
“”She lived.””
“”For a while,”” Shaw said.
Hannah’s face hardened.
“”Silas had her.””
Elias remembered Harlan’s dying words.
Under the stone.
He searched the floor.
One stone near the chair had a rust-colored mark across it.
He pried it loose using his knife.
Beneath was a metal box.
Inside lay photographs.
Letters.
And a ledger.
Elias opened it.
Names filled the pages.
Payments.
Judges.
Bankers.
Railroad officials.
Sheriffs.
Military suppliers.
Land agents.
Silas Miller’s ranch was not the center of the operation.
It was a meeting place.
A storage house.
A prison.
“”What is this?”” Hannah asked.
Shaw’s face had gone pale.
“”A list of half the powerful men in Kansas.””
Elias turned pages.
Then stopped.
One entry had been written eleven years earlier.
DANIEL VALE — federal agent — compromised.
Below it:
MARGARET VALE — detained.
HANNAH VALE — retained.
Retained.
Not rescued.
Not adopted.
Retained.
Hannah read the word several times.
Her face emptied.
Elias continued.
Beside her name was another entry.
TRANSFER AUTHORIZED BY—
A floorboard creaked upstairs.
They extinguished the lantern.
Footsteps crossed above them.
One.
Two.
Many.
A voice called down.
“”Mr. Boone.””
Silas.
“”We know you’re there.””
Elias slipped the ledger beneath his coat.
Shaw aimed his rifle toward the stairs.
Then another voice spoke behind them.
“”Put it down, Deputy.””
Elias turned.
A man emerged from a dark passage in the cellar wall.
Amos Reed.
His pistol rested against Martha Harlan’s neck.
Her hands were bound.
Two other men appeared behind him.
They had been waiting.
Shaw lowered his rifle.
Silas descended the stairs.
Slowly.
Smiling.
“”I told you,”” he said to Elias. “”You hadn’t read the first chapter.””
“”You murdered Daniel Vale.””
Silas shook his head.
“”No.””
“”Held his wife here?””
“”No.””
Hannah stepped forward.
“”You expect me to believe you?””
Silas looked at her.
Something strange appeared in his expression.
Not contempt.
Not desire.
Recognition.
Almost pity.
“”Hannah,”” he said, “”the worst thing I ever did to you was keep you alive.””
Elias raised his gun.
“”Careful.””
Silas ignored him.
“”Hannah, you were never brought here because I wanted you.””
“”Then why?””
“”Because someone ordered me to.””
“”Who?””
Silas looked toward the ledger beneath Elias’s coat.
“”You’ve seen the names.””
“”Which one?””
“”The man who arranged the attack on your father’s wagon. The man who ordered your mother’s imprisonment. The man who paid to have your death recorded.””
Hannah stepped closer.
“”Tell me.””
Amos smiled.
Silas did not.
“”He’ll kill every person in this cellar if I say his name.””
“”Then write it.””
Silas laughed once.
“”I did.””
Elias understood.
“”The ledger.””
Silas nodded.
“”Last page.””
Amos’s smile disappeared.
“”Silas.””
For the first time, fear appeared in Miller’s face.
Elias pulled the ledger free.
Amos shoved Martha aside and raised his pistol.
Everything happened at once.
Shaw fired.
Amos fired.
Silas reached for his weapon.
Hannah screamed.
Lantern glass shattered.
Darkness swallowed the cellar.
Elias heard bodies collide.
A gunshot deafened him.
Then another.
Someone grabbed his coat.
He struck blindly.
A man fell.
Hannah shouted his name.
“”Elias!””
“”I’m here!””
A flame appeared.
Silas had relit a lantern.
Amos lay on the ground.
Dead.
Deputy Shaw was wounded in the shoulder.
Martha crawled toward him.
And Silas Miller stood against the wall with blood spreading across his stomach.
He looked at Hannah.
“”Last page.””
His knees buckled.
Hannah caught him before he hit the floor.
“”Who ordered it?””
Silas coughed.
“”You’re going to wish…””
“”Who?””
“”…you’d never asked.””
He died before finishing.
Elias opened the ledger.
Pages fluttered beneath his fingers.
One hundred twelve.
One hundred thirteen.
One hundred fourteen.
Then the final page.
Only a single name had been written there.
Elias stared at it.
His face changed.
Hannah noticed.
“”What?””
He closed the ledger.
“”Elias.””
Shaw looked over.
“”What name?””
Elias remained silent.
Hannah snatched the book from him.
She opened the final page.
Her eyes moved across the handwriting.
Then she stopped.
“”No.””
The word barely escaped her.
She read it again.
“”No.””
Martha whispered, “”Who is it?””
Hannah looked at Elias.
Terror filled her eyes in a way he had not seen even inside the barn.
Because the name written there did not belong to a powerful cattleman.
Or a banker.
Or a judge.
It belonged to a man who, according to every record in Kansas, had died eleven years earlier beside Willow Creek.
DANIEL VALE.
Hannah’s father.
Beneath the name was a sentence.
One sentence that changed everything.
OPERATION CONTINUES UNTIL THE DAUGHTER REMEMBERS.
Hannah dropped the ledger.
A sound came from the darkness behind the cellar wall.
Three slow knocks.
Everyone turned.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Elias raised his revolver.
A hidden door opened.
A tall figure stood beyond it.
Older now.
Gray-haired.
Scarred across one side of his face.
In his hand was a silver pocket watch.
A bird was engraved on its lid.
Hannah forgot the pain.
Forgot Silas.
Forgot the bodies around her.
Her lips trembled.
“”Father?””
The man smiled.
And behind him, somewhere far beneath Miller Ranch, a woman began to sing the lullaby Hannah remembered from childhood.
Her mother’s lullaby.
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