Chapter 6 - What Her Father Left Behind
Silas did not let Constance go outside.
She hated him for exactly thirty seconds.
Then the stranger placed his weapon in the snow and raised both hands.
His name was Henry Cole.
He was an attorney from Helena.
And he carried a sealed letter written by Samuel Bradley eleven years earlier.
Constance recognized her father’s handwriting immediately.
Her knees weakened.
Henry had been trying to locate her for months.
Samuel had hired him before his death to protect the timber rights.
When Bitter Creek began moving again, Henry realized Constance was in danger.
He had followed the paper trail to Montana.
The rifle shots?
Warning shots.
He had seen two armed men near the cabin.
Silas and Elizabeth tracked them.
They were hired men fleeing after Reed’s arrest.
No further attack came.
That night, Constance opened her father’s letter.
My dear Connie,
If you are reading this, then someone has finally come for the land.
I wish I had told you about it while I lived.
I did not because I wanted you to have one thing in this world that was yours before anyone had the chance to convince you that you did not deserve it.
Constance stopped.
Her eyes blurred.
Silas sat beside her.
She continued.
People will try to tell you what you are worth.
Some will decide by your face.
Some by your body.
Some by whether you obey.
Do not let them.
Your mother was the strongest person I ever knew because she took up space without apologizing for it.
You are her daughter.
Take up yours.
Constance could not continue.
Silas took the letter.
He did not read ahead.
He simply held it while she cried.
The next morning, she finished.
Her father had left instructions.
The timber rights could be sold.
Or developed.
Or preserved.
Entirely her decision.
They were worth enough to make her wealthy.
Very wealthy.
Silas looked uncomfortable when Henry explained the numbers.
Constance noticed.
That evening, he became distant.
He slept in the workshop.
The next day, he found reasons to stay outside.
On the third day, Constance cornered him near the barn.
“You’re avoiding me.”
“No.”
“You chopped enough wood to survive five winters.”
“I like preparedness.”
“You repaired a fence buried under three feet of snow.”
“Needed doing.”
“You sharpened spoons.”
He looked offended.
“One spoon.”
“Silas.”
He sighed.
Constance folded her arms.
“What changed?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
He looked toward the cabin.
“You don’t need this anymore.”
“This?”
“The mountain. The cabin.”
She stared.
“Because I have money?”
“You could go anywhere.”
“So?”
“So you should.”
Anger rose.
“I crossed half the country because strangers decided what I needed. I will not have you doing the same.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“It is.”
Silas looked at her.
“I have a cabin, some land, twelve horses if you count the stubborn one, and a roof that leaks behind the stove.”
“I know.”
“You could have a house in Helena.”
“I don’t want one.”
“You could go back east.”
“I don’t want that either.”
“You don’t know what you’ll want when winter ends.”
Constance stepped closer.
“No. You don’t know what I want because you’re too frightened to ask.”
His jaw tightened.
“Frightened?”
“Yes.”
“Of what?”
“That I’ll choose you and you’ll have to believe me.”
Silas went silent.
Constance’s anger softened.
“That’s it, isn’t it?”
He looked away.
She understood.
Everyone Silas loved had vanished.
His father.
His sister.
Now she had enough money to disappear too.
“You think I’ll leave.”
Silas said nothing.
Constance touched his face.
“I might.”
His eyes snapped to hers.
“I might go to Helena. I might see San Francisco someday. I might buy ridiculous curtains.”
He almost smiled.
“But leaving the mountain is not the same as leaving you.”
His expression broke.
“Constance.”
“I choose where I go.”
“Yes.”
“And whom I return to.”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“That means you have to finish the question you started.”
He stared.
“The ring.”
Silas looked toward his pocket.
“You kept it?”
“Of course.”
He took it out.
Then hesitated.
“Not here.”
“What?”
He took her hand.
“Come with me.”
He led her through the snow to the kitchen.
Constance laughed.
“This is your grand location?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Silas pointed.
At the heavy wooden table.
The same table from their first weeks together.
The one she had watched him repair.
The one where Abigail told the truth.
The one where they had mapped the conspiracy.
The one where they had shared bread and arguments and laughter.
Silas rested both hands on it.
“You arrived here thinking this house belonged to a man who had asked for you.”
Constance’s throat tightened.
“He hadn’t.”
“No.”
He came around the table.
“But the man standing here now is asking.”
He knelt.
Constance covered her mouth.
“Constance Bradley, I don’t want your money. I don’t want your timber. I don’t want you because someone delivered you to my porch.”
He held up the ring.
“I want you because you made my house feel alive before I knew it was dead.”
Tears slid down her cheeks.
“I want your arguments. Your terrible card cheating. Your bread.”
“My bread is excellent.”
“It is.”
“Continue.”
He smiled.
“I want every winter you’ll give me.”
Constance laughed.
“Yes.”
He blinked.
“I hadn’t finished.”
“Too slow.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
He stood.
She kissed him before he could put the ring on.
Elizabeth entered at exactly the wrong moment.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
Constance laughed against Silas’s mouth.
They married two weeks later.
Not in town.
At the cabin.
Abigail stood beside Constance.
Elizabeth stood beside Silas.
Earl, still recovering, arrived with flowers and an apology.
A real one.
Constance accepted both.
Daniel stood at the back.
Silas had not forgiven him completely.
Maybe he never would.
But forgiveness, Constance realized, did not have to happen all at once.
After the ceremony, Henry pulled Constance aside.
“There’s one issue.”
She sighed.
“There is always one issue.”
He handed her a telegram.
Bitter Creek Timber had collapsed.
Its assets were being seized.
But one parcel remained disputed.
A large tract touching Silas’s property.
Constance looked at the map.
“That’s the northern forest.”
“Yes.”
“Who owns it?”
Henry hesitated.
“That is the problem.”
“Who?”
He handed her a second document.
The owner’s name had been concealed through a holding company.
Now the records were unsealed.
Constance read the name.
Then looked toward Silas.
“No.”
Henry said quietly, “I’m afraid so.”
Silas approached.
“What is it?”
Constance handed him the page.
He read.
His face went still.
The northern forest—the land surrounding his cabin on three sides—did not belong to him.
May you like
It belonged to Elizabeth Mercer.
And according to the final line of the deed, she had already sold it.
