Chapter 6 - The Ranch in Rosemary’s Name
Rosemary forgot the pain in her shoulder.
“What?”
Thomas crossed the room.
He held the deed where she could see it.
MERCER RANCH.
Transfer of ownership.
Seller: Thomas Mercer.
Buyer: Rosemary Caldwell.
The signature looked perfect.
Rosemary stared at it.
“I didn't sign anything.”
“No,” Thomas said.
“You couldn't have.”
Nathaniel looked confused.
Clara began laughing from where two men restrained her.
Thomas turned.
“You did this?”
Clara shook her head.
“No.”
“Silas?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Clara smiled.
“You still haven't figured it out.”
Thomas stepped closer.
“Tell me.”
“Why would I?”
Rosemary looked at the date.
Yesterday.
The day she arrived at the ranch.
Before Thomas found her.
Before Clara knew she had survived.
The deed had been filed before anyone knew the outcome.
Which meant someone expected Rosemary to arrive.
Or expected her body to be found.
She looked at Mrs. Dobbins.
“You knew.”
The older woman shook her head rapidly.
“No.”
“Someone knew I was coming.”
“Yes.”
Nathaniel spoke slowly.
“If the ranch transferred to Rosemary and Rosemary died before marrying Thomas…”
Thomas completed the thought.
“Who inherits?”
Everyone went silent.
Rosemary had no parents.
No siblings.
No children.
No legal husband.
“No one,” she said.
Nathaniel shook his head.
“Not exactly.”
“What happens?”
“An intestate estate passes through extended kin.”
Rosemary frowned.
“I don't have extended family.”
Mrs. Dobbins started crying.
Rosemary looked at her.
“What?”
Mrs. Dobbins covered her mouth.
“What?”
The older woman whispered:
“You do.”
Rosemary felt cold again.
“I was told my mother's family was dead.”
“No.”
“Who?”
Mrs. Dobbins looked toward Clara.
Rosemary followed her gaze.
Clara's smile vanished.
Thomas understood first.
“No.”
Rosemary looked between them.
“What?”
Mrs. Dobbins whispered:
“Clara Whitmore is your cousin.”
Rosemary stared.
Clara looked away.
The room blurred.
Mrs. Dobbins explained.
Rosemary's mother, Eleanor Caldwell, had been born Eleanor Whitmore.
She left the family after a bitter dispute.
Married a teacher.
Moved east.
Cut contact.
Rosemary grew up knowing none of it.
Clara was the daughter of Eleanor's older brother.
“If I died unmarried…” Rosemary whispered.
Nathaniel nodded.
“Your nearest surviving blood relatives could petition for the estate.”
Thomas looked at Clara.
“So this was always the plan.”
Clara remained silent.
Thomas continued.
“Forge a sale to Rosemary.”
Silence.
“Kill Rosemary.”
Silence.
“Then claim the ranch through blood.”
Clara finally spoke.
“You make it sound crude.”
Rosemary almost laughed.
“You tried to freeze me to death.”
“I didn't.”
“Silas did.”
“I told him to stop you.”
“You knew what he was.”
Clara's face hardened.
“Your mother stole from my family.”
Rosemary stared.
“What?”
“She left with money.”
Mrs. Dobbins shook her head.
“No.”
Clara snapped, “You weren't there.”
“My mother never had money.”
“She took documents worth more than money.”
Thomas looked at Nathaniel.
“What documents?”
Nathaniel suddenly understood.
“The original Northern Land Company shares.”
Clara's face changed.
There.
Truth.
Rosemary whispered:
“My mother had them?”
Nathaniel nodded.
“Perhaps.”
“Why?”
“Because your grandfather may have assigned them to her.”
Clara shouted, “He did not!”
Everyone looked at her.
She knew.
Thomas stepped closer.
“So the shares never belonged to my father?”
Nathaniel shook his head.
“Some did.”
He began piecing it together.
Thomas's father had purchased shares from Eleanor Caldwell years earlier.
But perhaps not all.
If Eleanor retained original certificates, Rosemary might have inherited them.
Clara had not simply tried to take Thomas's wealth.
She was trying to collect both sides.
Thomas's shares through forced transfer.
Rosemary's hidden inheritance through her death.
Rosemary felt sick.
“My mother died when I was ten.”
Mrs. Dobbins nodded.
“She left a trunk.”
Rosemary looked at her.
“What trunk?”
“I kept it.”
“You told me her things were lost in a fire.”
“I lied.”
“Why?”
“Because men came looking.”
“Who?”
“Whitmore men.”
Rosemary stared at Clara.
Clara's face was stone.
Mrs. Dobbins continued.
“I hid the trunk.”
“Where?”
“Ohio.”
“What's inside?”
“I never opened the sealed compartment.”
Nathaniel looked at Clara.
“You've been searching for those certificates for twenty years.”
Clara said nothing.
Thomas's voice softened.
“That is why Rosemary was chosen.”
Nathaniel looked ashamed.
“I didn't know at first.”
“You knew eventually.”
“Yes.”
“And continued.”
“Yes.”
Thomas turned away in disgust.
Rosemary closed her eyes.
Every letter.
Every false message.
Every mile.
All because powerful people saw her as a convenient piece of paper.
A signature.
A bloodline.
A corpse no one would question.
Thomas knelt beside her.
“Look at me.”
She did.
“You're not any of those things.”
“How did you know what I was thinking?”
“I've been thinking the same thing.”
“You?”
“My father made me an heir without telling me.”
He gave a tired smile.
“Apparently our families were excellent at keeping secrets.”
Rosemary laughed weakly.
The doctor finished bandaging her shoulder.
“You need rest.”
“No.”
Thomas raised an eyebrow.
She looked at him.
“Don't start.”
Outside, men searched for Silas.
Clara and Sheriff Danner were taken into custody by a territorial marshal who arrived after Nathaniel's emergency telegram reached Fort Benton authorities.
Nathaniel voluntarily surrendered.
But Silas remained missing.
That mattered.
Because Silas knew the mountain roads.
Thomas insisted Rosemary remain in Helena under guard.
Rosemary insisted on returning to the ranch.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because if the deed says it's mine, I'm going home.”
Thomas stared.
Then laughed.
“You haven't even married me and you've already stolen my ranch.”
“I didn't steal it.”
“Legally, apparently you did.”
“You can sleep in the barn.”
“I own the barn.”
“Not according to the deed.”
For the first time since finding her in the snow, Thomas laughed without fear.
They returned two days later.
The storm had cleared.
Sunlight spread over white hills.
Rosemary entered the cabin differently.
The first time, Thomas had carried her.
Now she walked beside him.
They placed the false letters on the table.
The real letters too.
Months of words finally reunited.
Rosemary spent hours reading what Thomas had written and never reached her.
One letter said:
I don't know whether affection can begin on paper, but if it can, I believe mine has.
Another:
I have repaired the west room. I told myself it was for storage. Eli laughed at me for three straight days.
Another:
If you arrive and decide Montana is too lonely, I will understand. I only hope you give me one winter to convince you otherwise.
Rosemary looked up.
“You fixed a room for me?”
Thomas looked embarrassed.
“Yes.”
“Before you knew I'd come?”
“Yes.”
“What color?”
“What?”
“The room.”
“Blue.”
“I hate blue.”
His face fell.
Rosemary smiled.
“I'm joking.”
Thomas stared.
Then shook his head.
“Cruel woman.”
That evening, they sat beside the fire.
No guards in the room.
No contracts.
No guns drawn.
Just quiet.
Thomas looked at her.
“When this is over…”
Rosemary waited.
“I don't want you to feel bound by the arrangement.”
She looked down.
“You don't?”
“No.”
Her chest tightened.
Thomas continued.
“You came here under false information. You nearly died. You discovered half the territory has been forging our names.”
“Our names?”
“I suppose criminals think of us as a pair.”
Rosemary smiled faintly.
Thomas became serious.
“You should choose freely.”
“What if I choose to stay?”
“Then I'll spend every day being grateful.”
“What if I choose you?”
Thomas stopped breathing.
Rosemary watched him.
He opened his mouth.
A rifle shot shattered the window.
Thomas threw himself over her.
Glass exploded across the floor.
Another shot hit the wall.
Thomas dragged Rosemary behind the stone fireplace.
“Stay down.”
Outside, a horse galloped.
Thomas grabbed his rifle.
Rosemary saw something tied to a rock that had crashed through the glass.
A note.
She opened it.
One sentence.
BRING THE ORIGINAL SHARE CERTIFICATES TO THE OLD MINE AT DAWN OR THOMAS MERCER DIES.
Rosemary looked up.
Thomas was beside her.
Alive.
Confused.
Then a scream came from outside.
Eli.
Thomas rushed through the door.
Rosemary followed.
Eli lay in the snow beside an empty saddle.
Blood on his forehead.
Thomas knelt.
“Where is he?”
Eli struggled to speak.
“They took…”
“Who?”
Eli lifted his head.
“Thomas…”
Thomas frowned.
“I'm here.”
Eli's eyes widened.
“No.”
He pointed toward the darkness.
“They took the other Thomas.”
Rosemary's blood ran cold.
A man stepped from behind the barn.
Same height.
Same coat.
Same hat.
From a distance, almost the same face.
Rosemary realized what she was looking at.
May you like
The man had been impersonating Thomas for months.
And now he raised a rifle directly at the real Thomas.
