Chapter 5 - The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
They left before noon.
Naelli insisted on riding.
Jonah objected until he realized arguing cost more strength than helping her onto a horse.
Her father assigned twelve riders to travel with them.
The rest remained near Cedar Pass.
Jonah locked his cabin.
Silas had already departed toward Blackstone.
Jonah suspected he would send word ahead.
“We should travel another route,” Jonah said.
Naelli’s father nodded.
“We will.”
They moved west through narrow timber corridors before climbing into higher country.
Jonah rode beside Naelli.
“You should be lying down.”
“You have said this many times.”
“And it keeps being true.”
She gave him the faintest smile.
“Then perhaps stop wasting breath.”
They rode in silence.
After an hour Naelli said, “Your mother may have had reasons.”
Jonah looked at her.
“You defending her?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I am telling you that knowing someone lied is not the same as knowing why.”
“Does why matter?”
“Sometimes.”
Jonah looked ahead.
“My entire life was built on a grave that did not exist.”
Naelli’s voice softened.
“Then perhaps meet the living man before deciding what the grave meant.”
He did not answer.
They camped before dark.
Naelli’s father sat across the fire from Jonah.
“You want to ask me about Elias.”
“Yes.”
“Ask.”
“Why did he stay with your people?”
“He did not.”
Jonah frowned.
“He stayed nowhere.”
“What does that mean?”
“After healing, he traveled. Mexico. New Mexico. Mountains north.”
“Why?”
“He believed Silas watched Cedar Pass.”
“Did he?”
“Yes.”
“Why not go to lawmen?”
The older man almost smiled.
“Which lawman?”
Jonah understood.
Territorial officials depended on ranchers, mining companies and land offices.
Still.
“He could have come for me.”
“Yes.”
The answer cut.
Jonah stared.
“You’re not going to defend him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he asked me not to.”
Jonah frowned.
Naelli’s father continued.
“Elias knows what he did to you.”
“He did nothing.”
“Exactly.”
Jonah looked away.
The older man added wood to the fire.
“When Naelli was seven, she disappeared during a storm.”
Naelli, resting nearby, opened one eye.
“Father.”
He ignored her.
“I searched all night. At sunrise she walked out of a ravine herself.”
Naelli muttered, “I knew the way.”
“You were seven.”
“I still knew.”
Her father almost smiled.
Then looked at Jonah.
“I believed protecting a child meant never letting danger reach them. That night taught me sometimes protection becomes control.”
Jonah understood the comparison.
“You think Elias stayed away to protect me.”
“He believed he did.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
That surprised him.
The older man continued.
“I think he was afraid.”
“Of Silas?”
“Of returning after too much time had passed.”
Jonah felt anger become something sadder.
Cowardice.
Not heroic exile.
Not noble sacrifice.
A man who kept delaying.
They reached their destination the next afternoon.
A narrow canyon opened into a small winter settlement near red cliffs.
Children stopped playing when the riders arrived.
Dogs barked.
Several adults recognized Naelli and hurried forward.
Jonah stayed on horseback.
His heart pounded.
Naelli’s father pointed toward a small adobe-and-timber house near the cliff.
“He is there.”
Jonah dismounted.
His legs felt strangely weak.
Naelli came beside him.
“You do not need to go alone.”
“Yes.”
She looked at him.
He corrected himself.
“I need to.”
She nodded.
Jonah crossed the clearing.
Each step seemed slower.
He reached the door.
Before he could knock, it opened.
An older man stood inside.
Early sixties.
Thin.
White threaded through a dark beard.
A scar ran from his temple toward his jaw.
His eyes were Jonah’s.
There was no dramatic recognition.
No need.
Jonah knew.
The man gripped the doorframe.
“Jonah.”
Hearing his name from that voice made rage surge.
“You don’t get to say it like you know me.”
Elias Reed flinched.
“No.”
Jonah stepped inside.
The room contained maps, papers, books and a rifle.
Elias closed the door.
For several seconds they stood facing each other.
Jonah had imagined his father as a heroic dead man when he was a boy.
As a fool when he was older.
As nothing for the last decade.
Now he saw a man.
That somehow felt worse.
“You were alive.”
“Yes.”
“My mother knew.”
“Eventually.”
“My uncle knew.”
“Yes.”
“And I knew nothing.”
“Yes.”
Jonah struck him.
One punch.
Hard.
Elias staggered into the wall.
He did not defend himself.
Jonah’s chest heaved.
“You should hit me again if you need.”
Jonah almost did.
Then stopped.
“No.”
Elias wiped blood from his lip.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not giving you a simple punishment.”
Elias looked at him.
Jonah pointed toward the door.
“You’re going to tell me every reason you stayed away.”
“I will.”
“Every lie.”
“Yes.”
“Every deal involving Cedar Pass.”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re coming back with me.”
Elias froze.
“To Cedar?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t.”
Jonah laughed.
“There it is.”
“Silas will—”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
“I spent thirty-nine years caring about a dead man’s memory.”
Jonah stepped closer.
“Now the living one can carry some risk.”
Elias looked at him.
Then toward the window.
Outside, Naelli waited beside her father.
Elias’s expression changed when he saw her bandage.
“What happened?”
Jonah said, “Someone tried to kill her over your deed.”
Elias went pale.
“Where is Finch?”
“Dead.”
Elias closed his eyes.
Jonah watched.
“You knew him well?”
“He was my partner.”
“In what?”
Elias opened his eyes.
“Trying to stop your uncle.”
Jonah looked at the stacks of papers.
Elias continued.
“And Finch was carrying only half the evidence.”
Jonah frowned.
“Where is the other half?”
Elias reached under his shirt and removed a leather cord.
A small key hung from it.
“Somewhere Silas would never think to search.”
“Where?”
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Elias looked directly at him.
“Your mother’s grave.”
