Chapter 3 - The Wife Who Never Existed
Rosemary stared at the document.
Marriage Certificate.
Thomas Mercer.
Clara Whitmore.
Dated two years earlier.
For several seconds, the freight depot seemed impossibly quiet.
Rosemary looked at Thomas.
“Is this real?”
“No.”
Clara's smile widened.
“That's not what the county records say.”
Thomas picked up the certificate.
His eyes moved rapidly across the page.
“This signature isn't mine.”
Rosemary heard the bitterness in his voice.
The same words.
Again.
Another forged signature.
Clara folded her gloves.
“You always did have trouble accepting consequences.”
Thomas stared at her.
“I've never married you.”
“You courted me.”
“Three dinners isn't a courtship.”
“Four.”
“You left Montana.”
“Because you humiliated me.”
Thomas looked at Rosemary.
“I met Clara four years ago.”
Clara laughed softly.
“Four years, and that's all I get?”
Thomas ignored her.
“She wanted marriage.”
“You proposed.”
“I did not.”
“You implied.”
“That isn't a proposal.”
Rosemary looked at the certificate.
“When was this filed?”
“Two years ago,” Thomas said.
“I was in Wyoming that month.”
Clara shrugged.
“Records say otherwise.”
Thomas's gaze sharpened.
“Silas filed this.”
Clara's expression flickered.
Small.
But visible.
Rosemary caught it.
“So you know him,” Rosemary said.
Clara turned.
“And you must be the mail-order girl.”
“My name is Rosemary.”
“How sweet.”
Thomas stepped between them.
“Enough.”
Clara's eyes moved to him.
“You always did enjoy rescuing strays.”
Thomas did not react.
That seemed to anger her more than any insult could.
Rosemary looked at the clerk.
“Account forty-seven belongs to her, doesn't it?”
The clerk swallowed.
Clara answered for him.
“It belongs to a business consortium.”
“What business?”
“Transportation.”
Thomas laughed once.
No humor.
“Fraud.”
Clara's composure cracked.
“Be careful.”
“No. You be careful.”
Thomas placed the forged marriage certificate beside the forged freight form.
“Two documents carrying my forged signature. Both connected to this depot.”
Clara glanced around.
Several workers had stopped pretending not to listen.
Thomas continued.
“My letters were intercepted.”
Clara said nothing.
“Rosemary's letters were returned.”
Nothing.
“She was sold a false ticket.”
Nothing.
“And a driver abandoned her in a blizzard.”
Clara's face remained calm.
But her fingers tightened around one glove.
Rosemary saw it.
Thomas saw it too.
“You knew,” he said.
Clara's eyes flashed.
“You're imagining things.”
“You knew she was left outside town.”
“I knew nothing.”
Rosemary stepped forward.
“Then how did you know I was the mail-order girl?”
Clara stopped.
Rosemary's voice stayed quiet.
“I didn't introduce myself.”
Thomas turned toward Clara fully.
Clara recovered.
“Everyone knows.”
“No,” Thomas said.
“They don't.”
Clara backed toward the office.
Thomas blocked the path.
“Where is Silas?”
“Not here.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
Thomas moved closer.
“Clara.”
The clerk suddenly spoke.
“She paid him.”
Everyone turned.
Clara's head snapped toward him.
The clerk went pale.
“Shut your mouth, Edwin.”
“No.”
His fear was visible.
So was something else.
Relief.
Edwin reached under the counter.
Clara lunged.
Thomas caught her wrist.
Edwin pulled out a ledger.
“Account forty-seven.”
Clara struggled.
“Don't you dare.”
Edwin opened the book.
“Letters held. Tickets rerouted. Freight redirected.”
Thomas looked down.
Names filled the pages.
Dates.
Payments.
Initials.
Rosemary saw hers.
R. CALDWELL.
Beside it:
HOLD ALL CORRESPONDENCE.
Another entry.
STAGE TICKET – SPECIAL ROUTE.
Her stomach turned.
“This is proof.”
Thomas released Clara only after another worker stepped between her and the office.
Edwin nodded.
“I kept copies.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew eventually they'd blame me.”
Clara laughed bitterly.
“You took the money.”
“I processed paperwork.”
“You knew.”
Edwin's face flushed.
“Yes.”
Rosemary looked at him.
“You knew someone intended to leave me in the snow?”
“No.”
“Then what did you think special route meant?”
Edwin couldn't answer.
Thomas closed the ledger.
“Where's Silas?”
Edwin looked toward the back door.
“Warehouse district.”
Clara's face changed.
Thomas saw it.
“What?”
Edwin lowered his voice.
“Silas has been moving documents.”
“Where?”
“Old cooperage near Last Chance Gulch.”
Thomas turned toward the door.
Rosemary grabbed his sleeve.
“You're not going alone.”
“This isn't the ranch.”
“Exactly.”
He looked at her.
She did not release him.
Clara laughed.
“You really have no idea what you've walked into.”
Rosemary turned.
“Then tell me.”
Clara smiled.
“Ask Thomas why someone would need him unmarried.”
“We already know about the will.”
Clara's smile vanished.
Then returned.
“The will?”
Thomas became still.
Rosemary felt it.
There was more.
Clara tilted her head.
“Oh, Thomas.”
Thomas's voice became dangerous.
“What?”
“You think this is about your ranch?”
Edwin backed away.
Clara looked almost delighted.
“That's adorable.”
Thomas grabbed the certificate.
“What is it about?”
Clara remained silent.
Thomas stepped closer.
“What?”
Clara finally said:
“Your father didn't leave you one ranch.”
Thomas stared.
“He left you controlling interest in the Helena Northern Land Company.”
Thomas shook his head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“He sold those shares.”
“No.”
“My lawyer handled the estate.”
“Your lawyer lied.”
Rosemary's mind raced.
“Nathaniel Price?”
Clara nodded.
Thomas looked stunned.
Clara continued.
“Your father held twenty-eight percent of the company.”
“So?”
“So another family holds twenty-four.”
“Whose?”
Clara smiled.
“Mine.”
Thomas's expression hardened.
“You wanted my shares.”
“I wanted what should have been ours.”
“There was never an ours.”
Clara's calm disappeared.
“You could have married me.”
“And given your family control.”
“Yes.”
Thomas understood.
So did Rosemary.
“If Thomas married someone else,” Rosemary said, “his shares could eventually pass to his wife.”
Clara looked at her with hatred.
“Now you understand.”
Rosemary stepped closer.
“You didn't try to stop a wedding.”
Clara said nothing.
“You tried to protect your inheritance scheme.”
“Those shares belong with people who know what to do with them.”
Thomas laughed.
“You stranded a woman in a blizzard over railroad stock?”
Clara's eyes sharpened.
“I didn't tell Silas to kill her.”
Rosemary's blood went cold.
Thomas went still.
No one spoke.
Clara realized too late what she had said.
Thomas's voice dropped.
“Tell him?”
Clara backed away.
“You said you didn't know.”
“I meant—”
“You said you didn't know anything.”
“Thomas—”
“You just said you didn't tell Silas to kill her.”
Clara looked toward the door.
Thomas blocked her.
Edwin shouted for a constable.
Clara shoved past a worker.
Rosemary moved aside.
Clara ran through the back office.
Thomas followed.
They burst into an alley.
Clara was halfway to a waiting carriage.
The driver whipped the horses.
Thomas ran after it.
Too late.
The carriage disappeared around the corner.
Rosemary reached him.
“She's going to Silas.”
Thomas nodded.
Edwin came running.
“The ledger.”
“What?”
“It's gone.”
Thomas turned.
“The ledger was on the counter.”
Edwin's face was white.
“Someone took it during the chase.”
Thomas looked back into the depot.
Workers stared.
Any one of them could have done it.
“Copies?” Thomas asked.
Edwin nodded quickly.
“At my house.”
“Get them.”
Edwin didn't move.
“What?” Rosemary asked.
“My wife.”
“What about her?”
Edwin's voice shook.
“Silas knows where I live.”
Thomas saddled horses at a livery stable.
Rosemary watched his movements.
Fast.
Precise.
Furious.
“We should get the sheriff.”
“We will.”
“When?”
“When we have Edwin's copies.”
“You don't trust the sheriff.”
Thomas paused.
“That obvious?”
“Yes.”
“Silas avoided prosecution for forgery before.”
“Because?”
“Evidence disappeared.”
“Who handled the case?”
“Sheriff Danner.”
Rosemary sighed.
“Wonderful.”
They rode to Edwin's house.
The front door stood open.
Thomas dismounted.
“Stay here.”
Rosemary gave him a look.
He sighed.
“Fine. Stay behind me.”
Inside, a lamp burned.
No one answered.
Thomas moved through the parlor.
“Edwin?”
Nothing.
Rosemary saw a broken cup.
Tea spread across the floor.
Then a sound upstairs.
A child crying.
Thomas rushed up.
Rosemary followed.
A little boy sat beneath a bed.
His face was wet with tears.
Thomas crouched.
“Where's your mother?”
The boy pointed toward the hallway.
They found Edwin's wife locked in a linen closet.
Thomas broke the latch.
She stumbled out.
“They took Edwin.”
Rosemary's heart sank.
“Who?”
“Two men.”
“Silas?”
“I didn't see.”
“Where are the copies?” Thomas asked.
Mrs. Palmer shook her head.
“Edwin hid them.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
The boy appeared in the doorway.
“I do.”
Everyone looked at him.
He pointed toward the floorboards beneath his bed.
Thomas pried one loose.
Inside was a packet of ledger pages.
Rosemary exhaled.
They had proof.
Then she noticed something else.
A small envelope.
Her name.
ROSEMARY CALDWELL.
She opened it.
Inside was a single page.
Written in handwriting she recognized immediately.
Not Thomas's.
Not Clara's.
Mrs. Dobbins.
Her landlady in Ohio.
Rosemary read.
Dear Miss Caldwell,
If you are reading this, they have failed to stop you.
Rosemary's hands began to shake.
Thomas moved beside her.
She continued.
Do not trust the man who first contacted you about Thomas Mercer.
Rosemary stopped.
Thomas looked at her.
“What man?”
Rosemary whispered:
“Nathaniel Price.”
Thomas's lawyer.
The person who had introduced them.
Thomas took the letter.
His face changed as he read the final line.
Because Mr. Price was never trying to find Thomas a wife.
He was trying to find a woman with no family who could disappear without questions.
A horse stopped outside.
Then another.
Thomas extinguished the lamp.
Heavy boots crossed the porch.
A man's voice came through the open door.
“Mercer.”
Thomas raised his rifle.
The voice continued.
“We have Edwin Palmer.”
A second voice screamed from outside.
Edwin.
May you like
Then the stranger said:
“Bring Rosemary Caldwell out, or we start cutting pieces off him.”
