Chapter 4 - The Sheriff at Blackwater Gorge
Elias moved between Pike and Clara.
“Easy,” Pike said.
His revolver remained raised.
Baby Samuel slept against Elias’s chest.
Clara could not understand how an infant could sleep through a moment that made every adult breath feel dangerous.
“You followed us,” she said.
“Yes.”
“You worked for Vane.”
Pike’s jaw tightened.
“No.”
“Samuel said not to trust you.”
“Samuel had reason.”
“That sounds like a confession.”
“It isn’t.”
Elias said, “Lower the gun.”
Pike looked at the baby.
Then lowered it.
Clara blinked.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to keep us alive.”
Pike approached the box.
“Samuel didn’t trust me because I refused to help him.”
“Why?”
“Because my wife was alive then.”
Clara remembered Mary Pike.
She had died the previous winter.
Pike continued.
“Vane threatened her. Samuel wanted me to arrest him. I told Samuel I needed evidence.”
“And he died.”
“Yes.”
The sheriff’s voice broke.
“I’ve lived with that every morning since.”
Clara still did not trust him.
“Who sent the note?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who took Mercer and Hale?”
“I don’t know.”
“Convenient.”
Pike nodded.
“Very.”
He reached slowly into his coat.
Elias tensed.
Pike produced a folded document.
“Judge Ward ordered your farm seized this afternoon.”
Clara stared.
“For what debt?”
“Samuel supposedly borrowed eight hundred dollars from Vane.”
“He never did.”
“I know.”
“The north field.”
Pike nodded.
“They’re moving faster.”
Elias looked toward Helena.
“Then so do we.”
Samuel’s letter contained another clue.
Clara read it on horseback.
The first letters of six consecutive sentences spelled:
DEPOT.
At Helena’s rail depot, the stationmaster recognized Samuel’s name.
“He rented box thirty-one.”
The brass key opened it.
Inside were survey maps.
Bank copies.
Signed testimonies.
And a photograph.
Clara stared at it.
Samuel stood beside Elias’s wife, Ruth.
Between them stood Thomas Mercer.
And Horace Vane.
Elias went rigid.
“Ruth knew him.”
On the back Samuel had written:
THE FOUR OF US KNOW WHERE THE SILVER REALLY CAME FROM.
Clara looked at Elias.
“You were the only one who didn’t know.”
His face hardened with pain.
“My wife lied to me.”
“She protected you.”
“Same thing Samuel did to you.”
Clara had no answer.
Pike examined the survey.
“This can destroy Vane.”
“No,” Clara said.
“Why?”
“Because Vane warned me.”
She told them what he had said.
There were men involved who frightened even him.
Pike looked at the photograph.
“Ward.”
“Maybe.”
“Or someone above him.”
A sound came from the depot entrance.
Doctor Hale stumbled inside.
His face was bruised.
“Clara.”
She ran to him.
“Where’s Mercer?”
Hale shook his head.
“They took him south.”
“Who?”
“Ward’s marshal.”
Pike cursed.
Hale handed Clara a scrap of paper.
“Mercer gave me this before they separated us.”
One name.
JONATHAN VALE.
Pike went pale.
“Who is he?” Clara asked.
“Territorial land commissioner.”
Elias understood first.
“The man who approves the claims.”
Pike nodded.
“If Vale is involved, Vane isn’t the top.”
Hale said, “Mercer said Vale arrives in Dry Creek tomorrow.”
Clara looked at the evidence.
“Then we go back.”
Elias stared.
“With this?”
“With all of it.”
“They’ll kill us.”
“Then we make sure the entire town sees it before they can.”
They returned to Dry Creek the following afternoon.
A crowd had gathered outside Clara’s farm.
Judge Ward stood on the porch.
Horace Vane beside him.
Workers were hammering a foreclosure notice to the door.
Clara dismounted.
“Get off my property.”
Ward smiled.
“It is no longer your property.”
Clara held up Samuel’s papers.
“I think we should discuss that.”
Vane saw the documents.
His face drained.
Judge Ward did not react.
That told Clara everything.
Ward said, “Sheriff, arrest her.”
Pike remained mounted.
“No.”
Ward stared.
“That was an order.”
“I heard it.”
Pike removed his badge.
Then pinned it more firmly to his coat.
“And I’m still sheriff.”
People gathered.
Clara climbed onto the porch.
She began reading names from Samuel’s ledger.
Families.
Debts.
Properties.
Deaths.
Murmurs spread.
Horace Vane stepped forward.
“Stop.”
Clara continued.
“Jacob Reese.”
A woman in the crowd gasped.
“My brother.”
“Martin Cole.”
“My father,” someone shouted.
“Henry Wallace.”
Another voice.
Ward’s composure cracked.
“Enough.”
“No,” Clara said.
“Not yet.”
She produced the survey.
“This shows Vane Mining’s main silver tunnel crosses illegally beneath twelve homesteads.”
The crowd erupted.
Vane shouted, “I was following orders!”
Silence returned.
Ward turned toward him.
“Horace.”
Vane realized what he had done.
Clara pressed.
“Whose orders?”
Vane looked terrified.
“Horace.”
“Clara,” Elias warned.
A carriage entered the yard.
Black lacquer.
Government seal.
Jonathan Vale stepped out.
He was older than Clara expected.
White-haired.
Elegant.
Calm.
Judge Ward visibly relaxed.
Vale surveyed the crowd.
Then Clara.
“I understand there has been some confusion regarding federal land ownership.”
Clara held up Samuel’s documents.
“No confusion.”
Vale smiled.
“May I see those?”
“No.”
His smile remained.
“Mrs. Whitmore, your late husband committed fraud.”
Clara almost laughed.
“Samuel?”
“He forged federal documents and blackmailed respectable businessmen.”
People murmured.
Vale had anticipated everything.
He produced papers of his own.
Samuel’s signature appeared across them.
Clara stared.
Perfect.
Elias whispered, “Forgery.”
But to everyone else?
It looked real.
Vale addressed the crowd.
“Samuel Whitmore stole federal silver. Horace Vane attempted to expose him.”
Vane stared at Vale.
“What?”
Vale continued calmly.
“And when Mr. Whitmore realized discovery was inevitable, he murdered several witnesses.”
Clara’s stomach turned.
The story was being reversed.
Samuel would become the criminal.
Vane looked horrified.
“You said you would protect me.”
Vale glanced at him.
That was the moment Clara saw it.
Vane was not his partner.
He was disposable.
Just like everyone else.
Suddenly a rifle cracked.
Horace Vane jerked.
Blood appeared on his shoulder.
The crowd screamed.
Elias dragged Clara down.
Pike fired toward the tree line.
Another shot struck the porch.
Vale’s carriage raced away.
Ward disappeared into the crowd.
Elias covered Clara and both babies with his body.
Vane lay bleeding.
Clara crawled toward him.
He grabbed her wrist.
“Seventeen,” he gasped.
“I know.”
“No.”
His fingers tightened.
“Samuel wasn’t number seventeen.”
Clara leaned closer.
Vane’s face went gray.
“He was eighteen.”
Then he shoved a small key into her palm.
“Bank vault. Box seventeen.”
His eyes rolled toward the road.
“Before Vale gets there.”
Clara looked up.
May you like
Smoke was already rising over Dry Creek.
From the direction of the bank.
