Chapter 6 - The Child They Wanted
Elias did not move.
Clara watched disbelief become anger, then pain.
“My son?”
Mrs. Fletcher shook her head weakly.
“I said it wrong.”
Elias leaned closer.
“Then say it right.”
“Samuel is yours.”
Elias closed his eyes.
Relief.
Brief and enormous.
“But Ruth’s father believed otherwise.”
“Vale?”
Mrs. Fletcher nodded.
“He believed the child belonged to someone who could destroy him.”
Clara frowned.
“Who?”
“Samuel Whitmore.”
Clara went still.
Elias looked at her.
“No.”
Mrs. Fletcher struggled upright.
“Not because Ruth and Samuel were lovers.”
Clara had not realized how tightly she had been holding her breath until then.
“They weren’t,” Fletcher continued. “But Vale saw them together. Ruth was helping Samuel collect evidence. Vale assumed the worst.”
Elias looked sick.
“So he poisoned his own daughter?”
“He ordered someone to frighten her. The dose was supposed to make her sick.”
“Who gave it?”
Mrs. Fletcher’s eyes moved toward the road.
“Judge Ward.”
That explained the rushed hearing.
The false warrant.
The missing Mercer.
Everything.
Pike said, “We take Ward tonight.”
“He’s gone,” Hale said.
“Where?”
Mrs. Fletcher whispered, “North mine.”
Clara understood.
“Vale is destroying the evidence.”
Elias picked up his coat.
“I’m going.”
“So am I,” Clara said.
“No.”
She stared at him.
“We have had this argument.”
“You’re not riding into a mine.”
“Samuel died for what’s inside.”
“And he died trying to keep you out of it.”
Clara stepped closer.
“That was his mistake.”
Elias stared.
“My husband decided what I could survive. Ruth decided what you could survive. Look where their secrets brought us.”
That silenced him.
Pike organized twelve townsmen.
By dawn they reached the northern mine.
No workers.
No guards.
Too quiet.
Pike examined the entrance.
“Explosives.”
Elias nodded.
“They’re going to collapse it.”
They entered.
Deep inside, voices echoed.
Vale.
Ward.
Mercer.
And Horace Vane.
Clara followed despite every protest.
They reached a large silver chamber.
Mercer was tied to a support post.
Vane sat wounded nearby.
Judge Ward held a revolver.
Jonathan Vale held a detonator cord.
“Enough,” Pike called.
Ward spun.
Gunfire exploded.
Clara dropped behind an ore cart.
Elias charged Ward.
The two men crashed into timber supports.
Ward fired.
The bullet struck Elias’s side.
Clara screamed.
He did not stop.
Elias knocked the revolver away.
Pike subdued Ward.
Vale ran deeper into the mine.
Clara crawled to Elias.
Blood stained his shirt.
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve been shot.”
“Still fine.”
“That isn’t how bullets work.”
Despite everything, he almost smiled.
Then Mercer shouted.
“Vale has the blasting caps!”
Everyone ran.
Vale reached the final tunnel.
Clara followed.
“Stop!”
He turned.
The elegant government official was gone.
In his place stood an old man cornered by the truth.
“You,” he said.
Clara held Samuel’s ledger.
“You murdered my husband.”
“Your husband was a fool.”
“He was better than you.”
“He stole from me.”
“No. He exposed you.”
Vale laughed.
“You think these people care? Give them enough silver and they will forget every corpse.”
Behind Clara, townsmen entered.
They heard him.
Vale realized it too late.
Pike said, “Keep talking.”
Vale raised his pistol.
Elias stepped in front of Clara.
Again.
Always.
Vale fired.
The weapon clicked.
Empty.
He stared.
Elias struck him once.
Vale collapsed.
The mine did not explode.
The evidence survived.
Jonathan Vale, Judge Ward, and their surviving men were taken into custody.
Mercer lived.
Horace Vane lived too.
Barely.
Three weeks later, a federal marshal arrived from Fort Benton.
Then another official from Washington.
Samuel’s documents were authenticated.
Ruth’s statement was accepted.
The forged claims unraveled.
Seventeen suspicious deaths became eighteen murder investigations.
Clara’s farm was restored.
So were eleven other properties.
Vane agreed to testify against Vale in exchange for avoiding the gallows.
Dry Creek changed.
Not quickly.
Towns never did.
But it changed.
Elias recovered at Clara’s farm.
He slept in the barn at first.
Clara finally became irritated.
“There is a spare room.”
“I’m comfortable.”
“You were shot.”
“I’ve slept worse.”
“I’m sure you have. That doesn’t make stupidity admirable.”
He moved into the spare room.
Baby Samuel gained weight.
His cries grew stronger.
Clara found herself waking when he cried even before Elias did.
Sometimes she fed him goat milk while Elias worked.
Sometimes she caught Elias standing in the doorway watching her.
Neither mentioned it.
Autumn arrived.
Clara’s pregnancy advanced.
One evening Elias repaired the porch railing.
Clara sat nearby sewing.
“You can leave,” she said.
His hammer stopped.
“What?”
“You’ve repaid forty-eight dollars.”
“Have I?”
“Several times.”
He resumed hammering.
“You trying to get rid of me?”
“No.”
“Then stop talking.”
Clara smiled.
It felt strange.
Good strange.
Then a rider approached.
Federal Marshal James Cooper dismounted.
He carried an envelope.
“For Mrs. Whitmore.”
Clara opened it.
Inside was a final statement recovered from Jonathan Vale’s private safe.
Written by Samuel.
Clara read silently.
Then sat down.
“What?” Elias asked.
She handed it to him.
Samuel had known Elias would come to Dry Creek if Ruth died.
He had arranged something neither of them expected.
The Whitmore property deed had been amended.
Clara owned half.
The other half belonged to—
Elias Boone.
Elias stared.
“No.”
Clara looked at the marshal.
“Is it legal?”
“Perfectly.”
“Why?” Elias whispered.
Clara continued reading Samuel’s final note.
Elias, if this reaches you, then I am gone. Clara will hate that I kept secrets. She will be right. Help her finish what I could not. The north field belongs to both of you because neither Vane nor Vale can take it if one of you survives.
Elias stopped reading.
There was one final line.
Clara leaned over.
Her heart skipped.
IF YOU BOTH SURVIVE, THERE IS ONE MORE THING BURIED BENEATH THE OLD CEDAR.
Elias looked toward the north field.
The old cedar stood alone against the evening sky.
Clara rose.
They walked there together.
Elias dug.
Three feet down, the shovel struck metal.
A chest.
Samuel’s chest.
Clara knelt.
Elias opened it.
Inside were bundles of papers.
Letters.
And one sealed envelope addressed in Samuel’s handwriting:
FOR CLARA—ONLY AFTER YOU HAVE LEARNED TO TRUST ELIAS BOONE.
Clara stared at it.
Elias stepped back.
“It’s yours.”
Her fingers touched the seal.
Then stopped.
From the house came Doctor Hale’s shout.
“CLARA!”
A sudden pain tore through her belly.
She doubled over.
Elias caught her.
Another pain came harder.
Clara looked down.
Her dress was wet.
Hale came running across the field.
“It’s too early.”
Elias lifted Clara into his arms.
She grabbed his shirt.
“Something’s wrong.”
Hale’s expression confirmed it.
Elias began running toward the house.
May you like
Behind them, Samuel’s unopened letter remained beside the buried chest.
And from inside the house, baby Samuel suddenly began screaming.
