Chapter 2 - The Number His Dead Wife Left Behind
Garrick returned after dark without the rider.
His horse was lathered with sweat.
His expression told Nola he had come back with more questions than answers.
“He crossed Miller’s ravine,” Garrick said. “Lost him in the cedar breaks.”
Thomas held out the locket.
Garrick stopped breathing.
For one awful second, he looked less like a rancher than a man staring at a grave that had just opened.
“Where did you get that?”
Thomas pointed toward the barn.
Garrick took the locket with both hands.
“Mara wore this every day.”
Nola watched his thumb trace the tiny engraving.
“She wasn’t buried with it?”
“I thought she was.”
That answer changed the room.
Clara had fallen asleep beside Elsie.
Thomas stood against the wall.
Nola lowered her voice.
“How did your wife die?”
Garrick did not answer immediately.
“A wagon accident.”
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
“Where?”
“North road.”
“Was anyone with her?”
“No.”
“You saw the body?”
His eyes hardened.
“Yes.”
“I have to ask.”
“I know what I saw.”
Nola nodded.
She was not accusing him of anything.
But the locket should have been underground.
Instead, it had been hidden in his barn beside bottles that might have poisoned his child.
Garrick opened the locket.
Inside was a tiny painted portrait.
Mara Hale had been striking.
Dark hair.
Calm eyes.
A gentle mouth.
On the opposite side was a small scrap of faded paper.
Garrick frowned.
“That wasn’t there before.”
He pulled it free.
One word.
Mercy.
Nola read it twice.
“Does that mean anything?”
“No.”
Thomas spoke quietly.
“There’s a Mercy House.”
Garrick turned sharply.
“What?”
“In town.”
“There is no Mercy House.”
“Mr. Hollis calls the old clinic that.”
Garrick’s jaw tightened.
“What old clinic?”
“The building behind the church.”
Nola looked between father and son.
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
Thomas shifted.
“I heard men talking when I delivered grain last month.”
Garrick paced once across the room.
“Hollis.”
“Who is he?” Nola asked.
“Silas Hollis owns half the businesses in Hollow Creek. Bank. Freight office. Feed store.”
“And apparently a clinic.”
“He doesn’t own a clinic.”
“He may own more than you think.”
Garrick shot her a look.
She held it.
Three days earlier, he had wanted her gone.
Now his daughter’s life may have depended on the questions Nola refused to stop asking.
Elsie stirred.
Nola immediately moved to her bedside.
The fever was down again.
But the girl’s lips were dry.
“Nola?”
Her eyes opened.
Weak.
Clouded.
“I’m here.”
Elsie blinked.
“Papa?”
Garrick came beside her.
“I’m right here, sweetheart.”
The child stared toward the window.
“The man said Mama sent him.”
Garrick went rigid.
“What man?”
“The one in the barn.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
Nola kept her tone soft.
“What did he give you?”
Elsie touched her wrist.
“Said it was medicine.”
Garrick’s expression turned murderous.
“Did he say his name?”
Elsie shook her head.
“He smelled bad.”
“Like what?”
She frowned.
“Flowers.”
Nola thought of the cloudy bottle.
“Sweet flowers?”
Elsie nodded.
“Like Mama’s drawer.”
Garrick looked at Nola.
“Laudanum?”
“Maybe.”
Too much opium tincture could suppress breathing.
But the fever suggested something else.
Maybe a contaminated injection.
Maybe a compound.
Maybe poison designed to imitate illness.
Nola examined Elsie again.
“Sweetheart, did he tell you anything else?”
Elsie’s eyes fluttered.
“He said Papa would know soon.”
Then she fell asleep.
Garrick stood.
“I’m going to town.”
“At night?”
“Yes.”
“To confront Hollis?”
“Yes.”
Nola rose.
“That would be a mistake.”
His anger came back fast.
“You don’t know him.”
“Exactly. And you don’t know enough.”
“He may have poisoned my daughter.”
“Then running into his office with a rifle gives him time to destroy evidence while you sit in jail.”
He stared at her.
Thomas looked at the floor.
Clara stirred but did not wake.
Garrick exhaled through his nose.
“You always talk like this?”
“When men are about to do something foolish.”
His mouth twitched.
She could not tell if it was irritation or reluctant amusement.
“Stay with Elsie.”
“That I can do.”
“I’ll go without the rifle.”
“You’ll still be angry.”
“I am angry.”
“So am I.”
Their eyes held.
For the first time, something passed between them that was not rejection.
Not affection.
Recognition.
They were both afraid.
And both angry at the same thing.
Garrick left just after nine.
He returned before midnight.
With the town doctor.
Dr. Samuel Pike was thin, gray-haired, and visibly uncomfortable.
Nola disliked him immediately.
Not because he seemed cruel.
Because he seemed afraid.
He barely looked at Garrick.
“I told you I had other patients.”
“You had none,” Garrick said.
Pike opened his bag.
“Let me examine the child.”
Nola stepped aside but watched everything.
He checked Elsie’s breathing, pupils, throat, pulse.
Then he saw the puncture marks.
His hand stopped.
Just for a second.
Nola saw it.
“So?” Garrick demanded.
Pike recovered.
“Likely insect bites.”
“Two identical holes?”
“Could be.”
Nola spoke.
“What about the fever?”
“Childhood fever.”
“Of one hundred and four?”
“Children run high.”
“What about the bottle?”
Pike looked at her.
“What bottle?”
Garrick set it on the table.
The doctor’s face changed.
Again.
Only for a moment.
But enough.
“You recognize it,” Nola said.
“No.”
“You looked at it as though you did.”
“I did no such thing.”
Garrick moved between them.
“What is in that bottle?”
“I cannot tell by sight.”
“Take it.”
Pike did not move.
“Test it.”
“I don’t have equipment for that.”
“You trained in Denver.”
The doctor stared at him.
“How do you know?”
“Mara told me.”
Silence.
Pike’s skin went gray.
Nola understood immediately.
Garrick did too.
“My wife knew you before Hollow Creek?”
Pike closed his bag.
“I should go.”
Garrick blocked the door.
“No.”
“Mr. Hale—”
“Sit down.”
“This is unlawful.”
“My daughter was poisoned.”
“You do not know that.”
“Mara knew you.”
Pike’s mouth opened.
Closed.
Then Thomas spoke from the hallway.
“Papa.”
Everyone turned.
The boy held a book.
A ledger.
“I found this behind Mama’s old sewing chest.”
Garrick took it.
Mara’s handwriting filled the pages.
Dates.
Names.
Numbers.
Payments.
Medical terms.
One name appeared again and again.
Silas Hollis.
Another appeared almost as often.
Samuel Pike.
And beside several entries—
The doctor backed toward the door.
Garrick looked up.
“You have ten seconds.”
Pike whispered, “You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
“I tried to stop it.”
“Stop what?”
The doctor looked at Nola.
Not Garrick.
Nola.
“You should never have come here.”
A floorboard creaked behind them.
The back door swung open.
May you like
A gloved hand appeared through the darkness.
Then a gunshot exploded inside the cabin.
