The snapping sound it made as her foot struck and broke it in half seemed to echo along the creek.
The men beyond the trees went silent. She had to do something—now.
Without a second thought, Clara flung herself into the tree line and ran as fast as she could, heedless of any noise she was making. She didn’t dare look behind her for fear it would slow her down. She kept running, and then, only when she’d crested the tree line and emerged far from the bottom of the hill where the hotel sat—and far from the edge of town itself—did she glance behind her.
No one was there, but that didn’t mean they weren’t somewhere back in the trees. She strained to listen, and sure enough, heard something moving through the leaves and bushes. The valley was flat here, with the boardinghouse in sight. If only she could make it there before they emerged from the trees.
But she knew that was impossible. It was too far, and the trees that sat by the creek weren’t all that dense.
She had exactly one idea that might save her.
Clara stopped suddenly and turned. Breathing heavily, she patted down her skirts and walked calmly toward the south—as if she were simply a lady out for a sunset stroll from town. Her gaze flitted to the west, where the trees stood sentinel under the mountains. No one was in sight. Perhaps they were searching through the cottonwoods and pines instead. Or perhaps she’d imagined them behind her the entire time.
And then, just as she averted her eyes back toward the south, where the railroad tracks disappeared in the distance on their way to Santa Fe, she caught movement near the tree line out of the corner of her eye.
Ever so slightly, not turning her head, Clara looked toward the movement.
A man stood there, looking about. He spotted her immediately. It would look far too suspicious if she ignored him. A woman from town out for a little walk would certainly take notice of a man who suddenly appeared from behind the trees.
Drawing in a deep breath, Clara turned and looked directly at the man just as a second man joined him. All she could tell from this distance was that one wore a red shirt, and the other was dressed in shades of brown. They watched her for a moment. She inclined her head, even though she doubted they could see it from this distance.
She forced herself to look away and walk for another minute to the south, before turning and heading back toward town at a leisurely pace. When she glanced again toward the trees, the men were gone.
Her shoulders relaxed as she let out a breath. It had worked. Then she picked up her pace.
It was time to talk to Roman.
Chapter Seventeen
ROMAN PEERED AT THEnames and numbers in the ledger books at the desk. Exhaustion from staying up half the night was starting to take its toll. He turned up the wick on the lamp for more light, hoping that it would also reveal more money to come in soon. If the banker paid tomorrow and he rented out both Georgia and the wagon, he might be able to breathe just a bit easier. It still wasn’t enough to hire on anyone else—not after he’d had to repay Templeton and Wise for their stolen horses. But maybe after . . . Roman began adding up the numbers. After Friday next, if everyone—
“Roman!” a familiar female voice shouted from the one door that remained open.
He jerked his head up. Clara stood there, just inside the door. It was dark, far past any safe time for her to be outside alone. Roman jumped up.
“Clara, what are you doing here?” When he reached her, his gaze traveled her length. Her hair had escaped from its pins, her face was flushed, and her breath came quickly, almost as if she’d run here from the boardinghouse. He took her trembling hands in his. “What happened?”
