Chapter 2 - What Samuel Buried
Elias put one finger to his lips.
Clara held the newborn against her chest while her other hand moved instinctively over her unborn child.
Three more knocks sounded beneath the floor.
Then silence.
Elias pointed toward the kitchen.
“Back door.”
Clara shook her head.
“My husband built this house. There’s no cellar.”
“There is now.”
He moved toward the rug beside Samuel’s desk.
Clara stared as Elias dragged it aside.
Nothing.
Just floorboards.
Then he noticed scratches near one plank.
Fresh scratches.
He slid the axe blade into the seam and lifted.
A square section of flooring rose.
Beneath it was darkness.
Clara whispered, “Samuel never told me.”
Elias looked at her.
“That seems to be something Samuel did often.”
A man groaned below.
Elias descended first.
The hidden space was shallow, little more than an earth-walled storage pit.
A lantern burned weakly in one corner.
Beside it lay a wounded man.
Clara recognized him.
“Mr. Mercer?”
Thomas Mercer had worked as a surveyor for Vane Mining.
Blood soaked his shirt.
“Mrs. Whitmore,” he whispered.
Elias knelt beside him.
“Who did this?”
Mercer looked at Elias and recoiled.
“You’re alive.”
“Disappointed?”
“No.”
Mercer tried to sit.
“Samuel said you might come.”
Clara felt as though the room tilted.
“My husband has been dead four months.”
Mercer looked at her with genuine sorrow.
“I know.”
“Then explain.”
Mercer’s eyes moved toward the ceiling.
“They’ll come back.”
“Who?”
“Vane’s men.”
Elias glanced at Clara.
“Why were they searching the house?”
“The ledger.”
Elias held it up.
Mercer exhaled.
“Then Samuel kept his promise.”
Clara’s patience snapped.
“My husband is dead. A burned stranger appeared at an auction with a newborn child. Men are following me. Someone tore apart my home. You are bleeding under my floor. Stop speaking in riddles.”
Mercer swallowed.
“Horace Vane has been stealing land.”
Clara stared.
Mercer continued.
“Not buying it. Stealing it. He alters debt records, forges mineral surveys, calls loans early, then takes farms after families can’t pay.”
“That’s impossible.”
“No. It’s profitable.”
Elias opened Samuel’s ledger.
“All these names?”
“Victims.”
There were dozens.
Clara recognized many.
Families who had left Dry Creek suddenly.
Farmers who had lost ranches.
Widows who had sold for almost nothing.
Mercer pointed toward the ledger.
“Samuel discovered Vane’s new mine sits over federal land he never legally claimed. Worse, the access tunnel crosses beneath private homesteads.”
Clara understood.
“The north field.”
Mercer nodded.
“Your north field.”
Her stomach tightened.
“What’s under it?”
“Silver.”
Elias gave a humorless laugh.
“Enough to make men kill.”
Clara looked at Mercer.
“Samuel knew?”
“He discovered the deposit.”
“And Vane?”
“Found out Samuel knew.”
Clara could barely speak.
“My husband’s accident.”
Mercer looked down.
“It wasn’t an accident.”
The words struck harder than Clara expected.
She had imagined them since Elias spoke on the road.
Hearing them confirmed was different.
She sat heavily on an overturned crate.
“How?”
Mercer hesitated.
Elias said, “Tell her.”
“Samuel was meeting a federal land agent at Blackwater Gorge. He had copies of the fraudulent claims.”
Clara whispered, “He told me he was buying fencing.”
Mercer’s eyes filled with shame.
“Vane’s men were waiting.”
Clara closed her eyes.
For four months she had replayed Samuel’s final morning.
His kiss.
His smile.
The way he had touched her cheek before mounting his horse.
She had blamed the animal.
The rain.
The gorge.
God.
Now the blame had a human face.
Horace Vane.
“What does Elias have to do with this?”
Mercer looked at the mountain man.
Elias answered.
“I worked Vane’s northern logging camp.”
Clara waited.
“Samuel came through three years ago. Found me after a boiler explosion.”
His fingers moved unconsciously across his burns.
“Vane ordered the camp abandoned because the boiler had been illegally modified. Leaving me there solved the problem.”
“Samuel found you.”
“He carried me six miles.”
Clara looked at Elias differently.
“My wife, Ruth, nursed me after.”
He looked toward the newborn.
“She died three days ago giving birth.”
Clara’s anger softened.
“I’m sorry.”
Elias nodded once.
“Vane’s men came the next morning.”
“Why?”
“Samuel had sent me copies of mining records before he died.”
Clara understood.
“They wanted them.”
“I burned them.”
Mercer said, “Not all of them.”
Elias looked sharply at him.
Mercer pointed toward the baby.
“Ruth knew.”
Elias stood.
“What are you talking about?”
“Samuel trusted her.”
“My wife never met Samuel.”
“She did.”
Elias stared.
Mercer coughed.
“Once. Last winter. Samuel went to your cabin while you were trapping.”
Elias’s face hardened.
“What did he give her?”
“I don’t know.”
The baby began fussing.
Clara looked down.
A corner of the faded linen had loosened.
Something was stitched into the hem.
She froze.
“Elias.”
He came closer.
Clara touched the stitching.
“This isn’t ordinary.”
Elias took the blanket.
Using the tip of Clara’s sewing scissors, he carefully opened the hem.
A tiny brass key fell into his palm.
Nobody spoke.
Mercer whispered, “Samuel.”
Elias stared at the key.
Clara’s heart hammered.
“What does it open?”
Mercer shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
A horse whinnied outside.
Elias extinguished the lantern.
“Someone’s here.”
Boots crossed the porch.
Clara climbed from the hidden room.
Elias followed.
The baby was returned to his arms.
A knock sounded.
“Mrs. Whitmore?”
Sheriff Pike.
Clara opened the door halfway.
The sheriff stood alone.
“You all right?”
“My house was broken into.”
“I heard.”
“How?”
Pike hesitated.
Clara’s suspicion sharpened.
“Who told you?”
“Vane.”
Of course.
Pike glanced past her.
“Boone here?”
“Yes.”
“I need him.”
Elias stepped into view.
“Why?”
Pike produced another paper.
“Murder warrant.”
Clara stared.
“For whom?”
“Thomas Mercer.”
Silence.
Beneath their feet, Mercer was still alive.
Pike continued.
“Mercer was found shot near Vane’s mine this morning. Witness says Boone did it.”
Elias’s jaw tightened.
“Convenient.”
Clara said, “And you believe it?”
“I believe I have a warrant.”
Elias looked at Clara.
If Pike searched the house, Mercer would be discovered.
Mercer would either prove Elias innocent—
or be killed before he could speak.
Elias stepped outside.
“I’ll go.”
“No,” Clara said.
His eyes warned her.
Trust me.
Pike shackled him again.
Clara hated the sound.
Before leaving, Elias leaned close.
“The key.”
She nodded.
“Find what it opens.”
Then he was taken away.
Clara waited until darkness.
Mercer had lost more blood.
She gave him water and bandaged his wound.
“Where would Samuel hide something that needed a key?”
Mercer whispered, “Not here.”
“Then where?”
“He rented a box.”
“Where?”
Mercer’s eyes opened.
“Rail depot at Helena.”
Clara’s heart sank.
Helena was more than a day away.
“I can’t leave Elias in jail.”
“You may not have a choice.”
A noise came from outside.
Clara reached for Samuel’s revolver.
Someone slipped an envelope beneath the front door.
No footsteps followed.
Clara waited.
Then picked it up.
Her name was written across the front.
Inside was one sheet of paper.
Five words.
BRING THE KEY TO BLACKWATER GORGE.
Beneath it:
COME ALONE OR BOONE HANGS.
Clara turned the paper over.
There was something else.
May you like
A fresh drop of blood.
And beside it, the same number scratched beneath Vane’s signature.
