Chapter 3 - The Second Letter
Elias reached the door first.
“Stay inside.”
Catherine ignored him.
She followed.
Her shoulder screamed as she pulled on her coat, but she barely noticed.
The snow beyond the porch had been churned by hooves.
Peter’s horse stood trembling beside the rail.
Farther down the trail, nothing moved.
“Where did you last see him?” Elias asked.
“Half a mile back.”
“Was anyone following you?”
“I don’t know.”
“That means yes.”
Peter looked terrified.
Elias took his rifle from the leather sheath tied to his saddle.
Catherine stepped down from the porch.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“Amos has something belonging to my father.”
“You can barely lift your arm.”
“I can ride.”
Caleb appeared behind her.
“This is stupid.”
Catherine turned.
“You’re staying here.”
His eyebrows rose.
“With who stopping me?”
Vane’s guards stepped into the doorway.
Vane spoke from inside.
“You are.”
Caleb stared at him.
“You think your hired men can hold me?”
“I know they can.”
Nathan sat silently at the kitchen table.
Catherine looked at him.
“Watch him.”
Nathan almost laughed.
“I’ve been doing that my whole life.”
Elias brought Catherine’s mare around.
He helped her into the saddle without touching her injured shoulder.
They rode.
Peter followed.
Snow fell lightly through the pines.
Catherine’s father had taught her every trail within ten miles of the cabin. She knew which slopes iced first and which creek crossings stayed shallow after a freeze.
Elias knew them better.
He rode ahead but never so far that Catherine lost sight of him.
They found Reverend Bell’s horse first.
It stood beside a fallen spruce.
Empty saddle.
Catherine’s heart pounded.
“Amos!”
No answer.
Elias dismounted.
Tracks crossed the snow.
One set of boots.
Then another.
Then signs of a struggle.
Catherine saw dark drops on the white ground.
“Blood.”
Elias crouched.
“Not much.”
He followed the tracks into the trees.
Catherine dismounted despite the pain.
Peter stayed with the horses.
Twenty yards from the trail, they found Amos Bell sitting against a pine.
He was seventy-one years old.
Thin.
White-haired.
Stubborn enough to preach through influenza.
One side of his forehead was bruised.
He held a handkerchief against it.
“About time,” he muttered.
Catherine nearly cried.
“Amos.”
He looked at her shoulder.
“Good Lord, child. What happened?”
“My brothers.”
“Both?”
“Yes.”
“Then Thomas was right.”
Elias crouched beside him.
“Who attacked you?”
Amos looked at him.
“You must be Boone.”
“Yes.”
“Thomas described you as taller.”
Elias blinked.
Catherine almost laughed.
Amos pointed weakly toward the trees.
“Two men.”
“Did you know them?”
“No.”
“What did they want?”
“The letter.”
“Did they get it?”
Amos smiled.
“One of them did.”
Catherine stared.
“You let them take it?”
“I let them take a letter.”
Elias smiled faintly.
“You made a copy.”
“Three.”
Catherine dropped to her knees.
“Where?”
Amos reached inside his coat.
Nothing.
His smile disappeared.
“They searched me.”
Peter arrived.
“Reverend?”
Amos waved him away.
“I’m not dead.”
Catherine looked around.
“Where are the other copies?”
“One in the church safe.”
Peter shook his head.
“They opened it.”
Amos cursed.
Catherine had never heard him curse.
“Second?”
“With Abigail Turner.”
Catherine exhaled.
“And the third?”
Amos looked at her.
“With your father.”
“My father is dead.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then where is it?”
“He put it somewhere only you could find.”
Catherine stared.
“That sounds exactly like him.”
Elias helped Amos stand.
“Can you ride?”
“I can preach.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“I can ride.”
They returned to the Miller cabin just before dark.
The atmosphere had changed.
Vane stood near the window.
His guards had Caleb seated in a chair.
Nathan paced.
“You found him?” Vane asked.
“Alive,” Catherine said.
Caleb looked disappointed.
She saw it.
That hurt in a way she had not expected.
Not because she still trusted him.
Because some part of her had still believed there were limits.
Apparently not.
Amos entered.
Caleb looked away.
The old preacher noticed.
“Thomas would be ashamed of you.”
Caleb’s head snapped around.
“You don’t know what Father would think.”
“I knew him longer than you did.”
“You knew the version he showed at church.”
Amos took off his coat.
“I knew the version who cried when his wife died.”
Caleb went silent.
“I knew the version who slept in a chair beside Nathan for six nights when the boy had scarlet fever.”
Nathan stopped pacing.
“I knew the version who paid your gambling debt in Butte and never told Catherine.”
Catherine looked at Caleb.
Another secret.
Amos continued.
“And I knew the version who finally understood that loving a son does not require rewarding his worst behavior.”
Caleb rose.
Vane’s guard pushed him back down.
Amos faced Catherine.
“Your father suspected someone would come after the land.”
“Because of the mineral seam?”
“Yes.”
“How long did he know?”
“Eleven years.”
Catherine felt betrayed.
“He never told me.”
“He wanted you to choose whether you loved this place before money changed the meaning of it.”
“That wasn’t his choice to make.”
“No.”
Amos’s answer surprised her.
“He knew that near the end.”
Catherine swallowed.
“What was in the second letter?”
Amos sat.
“A confession.”
“About what?”
“The mineral claim.”
Elias leaned against the wall.
“Thomas filed one?”
Amos shook his head.
“His father did.”
Catherine frowned.
“My grandfather?”
“Samuel Miller discovered the deposit in 1872.”
“He died before I was born.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t he mine it?”
“He tried.”
Amos looked toward the fire.
“Two men died in the first shaft collapse. Samuel sealed the entrance.”
Catherine stared at the floor.
“Under the cabin?”
“Near it.”
Caleb spoke.
“Tell her the rest.”
Amos looked at him.
Caleb smiled.
“Tell her why Father protected it.”
Catherine turned.
“What does he mean?”
Amos sighed.
“The mineral itself may be worth a fortune.”
“That’s not the answer.”
“No.”
He looked at Elias.
“Thomas believed the old shaft contained evidence.”
“Evidence of what?” Catherine asked.
“Murder.”
Silence.
Even Caleb stopped smiling.
Amos continued.
“One of the men killed in the collapse may not have died from falling rock.”
Catherine’s skin prickled.
“Who?”
“Jacob Boone.”
Elias went perfectly still.
Catherine looked at him.
“Boone?”
Amos nodded.
“Your grandfather?” she asked Elias.
“My father’s father.”
His voice was flat.
Amos looked at him.
“Thomas spent years trying to find you because of that.”
Elias stared at the preacher.
“He found me.”
“Only near the end.”
“He never mentioned Jacob.”
“He was afraid you’d go into the shaft.”
“That sounds like Thomas.”
“Was he right?”
Elias did not answer.
Catherine understood.
Yes.
He would have gone.
Amos leaned forward.
“The second letter explained that Samuel Miller believed Jacob Boone had been shot before the collapse.”
Elias’s jaw tightened.
“By who?”
“Gideon Rourke’s father.”
Catherine stared.
“Rourke?”
“Silas Rourke.”
Nathan sat down.
“That’s why Gideon wants the land.”
Amos nodded.
“If the remains are still there, and if Samuel’s notes survived, the Rourke family could be tied to a killing they buried for decades.”
Vane swore quietly.
Caleb looked increasingly uncomfortable.
Catherine faced him.
“You knew?”
“Not about the body.”
“But you knew Rourke wanted the property for more than money.”
Caleb said nothing.
“You knew.”
“He said old family documents might be underground.”
“And you still tried to sell it?”
“He offered to clear my debt.”
Catherine stared at him.
“You sold our father’s land to erase a gambling debt.”
“It wasn’t just that!”
“Then what?”
Caleb stood again.
His face was red.
“You think staying here made you better than me?”
“No.”
“He did.”
Catherine understood.
This had never been only about money.
It was about Thomas.
About the will.
About Caleb believing every acre given to Catherine was an insult taken from him.
“You wanted Father to choose you.”
Caleb laughed bitterly.
“He never did.”
Catherine’s anger softened for half a second.
Then she remembered the floor.
Her twisted shoulder.
The forged signature.
“You could have hated me without destroying me.”
Caleb looked away.
That was when Nathan spoke.
“There’s more.”
Caleb’s head snapped toward him.
“Nathan.”
“No.”
Nathan stood.
“I’m done.”
“With what?”
“Being afraid of you.”
Caleb stared at him.
Nathan turned to Catherine.
“Rourke didn’t just pay Caleb.”
Catherine’s stomach tightened.
“What did he do?”
“He paid someone at the county office.”
Vane swore.
Amos whispered, “Who?”
Nathan shook his head.
“I never learned the name.”
“Why?”
“Because Caleb said it was safer.”
Catherine looked at Elias.
“If someone inside the county office is involved, then the filed deed—”
“May disappear,” Elias said.
“Or be replaced.”
Vane nodded reluctantly.
“And Thomas’s declaration?”
“Same risk.”
Amos stood.
“Then we go to Judge Mercer tonight.”
Caleb laughed.
“In this snow?”
“Yes.”
“He lives thirty miles down the valley.”
Amos put on his coat.
“Then we have thirty miles to travel.”
Elias looked out the window.
Night had fallen.
Snow thickened.
“We won’t make it safely.”
Catherine said, “We have to.”
He turned.
“Dead people don’t win land disputes.”
She hated that he was right.
“Then at first light.”
Amos nodded.
“We bring every document.”
Catherine looked around the ruined cabin.
Her father’s third copy.
Somewhere only she could find.
She tried to think like Thomas.
Not where he stored valuables.
Where he stored truth.
Then she remembered the stove.
Not the cooking stove.
The small iron stove in his workshop.
Thomas had forbidden anyone to move it after his death.
She had assumed sentiment.
“Elias.”
He looked at her.
“The workshop.”
They crossed the yard with lanterns.
Caleb shouted from the cabin.
Nobody listened.
Thomas’s workshop stood twenty yards behind the house.
The lock was old.
Catherine had the key.
Inside, tools hung exactly where Thomas had left them.
Elias lifted the small iron stove.
Beneath one leg was a loose floorboard.
Catherine dropped to her knees.
She pried it up.
There was a tin box underneath.
Her hands trembled.
Inside were three things.
The third copy of Thomas’s letter.
A hand-drawn map.
And a photograph.
Catherine lifted the photograph.
Three young men stood outside the Miller cabin decades earlier.
Samuel Miller.
Jacob Boone.
And Silas Rourke.
Elias took the image.
His face changed.
Behind them, scratched faintly into the photographic plate, someone had marked an X beside the cabin.
Catherine unfolded the map.
The same X appeared there.
Then she saw a handwritten note.
SHAFT ENTRANCE SEALED FROM INSIDE.
Elias read it.
Catherine looked up.
“From inside?”
Footsteps sounded behind them.
Someone stood outside the workshop door.
The latch slowly lifted.
May you like
And Caleb’s voice came through the darkness.
“Don’t open that box again.”
