Chapter 2 - The Door That Locked From the Inside
“Hannie.”
The name passed through the door like a ghost.
Hannah's knees nearly gave way.
Nobody had called her that since she was twelve.
She descended the stairs.
Jacob blocked her path.
“Stay back.”
“Who is she?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
Another pounding blow shook the door.
“Hannie!”
Hannah pushed past Jacob.
He caught her wrist instinctively, then released it at once.
“Don't open it.”
“Why?”
“Because Cyrus isn't alone.”
Jacob lifted the curtain beside the window.
Two riders waited near the porch.
One was Cyrus.
The other was a stranger carrying a rifle.
Between them stood a woman wrapped in a dark cloak.
Hannah couldn't see her face.
Cyrus shouted, “Mercer, we need to correct our agreement!”
Jacob's expression hardened.
“The agreement is finished.”
“I neglected to mention certain complications.”
Jacob reached for his rifle.
Hannah saw the gesture.
“What complications?”
“Stay with the children.”
“Stop telling me to stay places while men decide what happens to me.”
That stopped him.
She stepped closer.
“If I belong to you, say it.”
Jacob's jaw tightened.
“You don't.”
“Then open the door.”
For several seconds they faced each other.
Then Jacob slid the bolt.
Cyrus entered first.
The stranger followed.
The woman remained outside.
Cyrus brushed snow from his coat.
“I'll return your money.”
“No.”
“And the bull.”
“No.”
Cyrus's eyes narrowed.
“You don't understand.”
“I understand that you were desperate to get rid of her three hours ago.”
The stranger raised his rifle slightly.
Jacob noticed.
So did Samuel, standing halfway down the staircase with his father's old revolver.
“Samuel,” Jacob said quietly. “Put that down.”
“But Pa—”
“Now.”
The boy obeyed.
Cyrus looked toward Hannah.
“Get your bag.”
“No.”
It was the first time she had ever said that word to him.
His face changed.
“What?”
“I said no.”
He crossed the room quickly.
Jacob stepped between them.
Cyrus stopped.
“You paid for a servant,” Cyrus said. “Not trouble.”
“I didn't pay for a servant.”
“Then what did you pay for?”
Jacob's answer was quiet.
“For you to lose the right to tell her where she goes.”
Hannah stared at him.
Cyrus laughed.
“You think a judge will see it that way?”
“I think a judge might be interested in the number forty-seven.”
Cyrus's smile disappeared.
The stranger looked at him.
“What number?”
“Nothing.”
Jacob moved closer.
“How many?”
Cyrus said nothing.
“How many girls?”
Hannah's stomach tightened.
Cyrus turned toward the door.
“We're leaving.”
“No,” Hannah said.
Everyone looked at her.
She held her mother's note.
“Who is Thomas Bell?”
Cyrus went pale.
Jacob's eyes snapped toward the paper.
“Where did you get that?”
“My mother's Bible.”
Cyrus lunged.
Jacob intercepted him.
The two men slammed against the table.
The stranger raised his rifle.
Samuel screamed.
Then the front door opened.
The cloaked woman stepped inside.
“Enough.”
Her voice silenced the room.
Hannah stared.
The woman lowered her hood.
She was perhaps forty, though hardship had aged her. A white scar ran from her temple toward her jaw.
Hannah did not recognize her.
But the woman's eyes filled with tears.
“You have Elizabeth's eyes.”
Hannah's mouth went dry.
“You knew my mother?”
The woman nodded.
“My name is Margaret Bell.”
“Bell?”
“Thomas Bell was my husband.”
Was.
Hannah swallowed.
“Where is he?”
“Dead.”
Cyrus edged toward the door.
Margaret pointed at him.
“He killed him.”
Cyrus bolted.
Jacob caught him before he reached the porch.
The stranger suddenly struck Jacob from behind.
Hannah screamed.
Jacob fell.
Cyrus ran into the snow.
The stranger followed.
By the time Jacob regained his feet, both riders were disappearing toward the trees.
Margaret shut the door.
“Let them go.”
Jacob wiped blood from his mouth.
“Why?”
“Because Cyrus will lead us where we need to go.”
Hannah looked at Margaret.
“Where?”
“To the proof.”
Margaret removed a packet from beneath her cloak.
She placed it on the table.
Inside were copies of deeds, names, dates, and payments.
Hannah saw numbers.
Twenty-nine.
Thirty-four.
Forty-one.
Forty-seven.
“What is this?”
“Your uncle has been selling more than cattle.”
Hannah's hands turned cold.
Margaret explained.
For years Cyrus had preyed upon vulnerable women and orphaned girls. Some were placed as servants. Others were coerced into marriages. A few simply vanished.
Thomas Bell had discovered it.
Elizabeth Reed had helped him collect evidence.
“My mother?”
“She wasn't helpless, Hannah. She was trying to stop Cyrus.”
“Then why did she leave me with him?”
Margaret's face crumpled.
“She didn't.”
The room became silent.
Hannah stared at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Elizabeth never chose to leave you.”
Jacob looked away.
Hannah noticed.
“You knew.”
“I knew part of it.”
“How?”
“My wife knew Elizabeth.”
Hannah looked toward the locket.
Jacob continued.
“Mary made me promise that if Cyrus ever tried to dispose of you, I'd get you away from him.”
“Dispose of me?”
His expression tightened.
“Her words.”
“So you waited?”
“I watched.”
“For six years?”
“I had three children and a dying wife. I couldn't walk into another man's house and take his ward without proof.”
“And tonight?”
“Tonight he offered you.”
Hannah laughed once.
It sounded broken.
“So you bought me.”
“I bought the only thing Cyrus cared about enough to let you walk out that door.”
“The bull.”
“And money.”
“Why not tell me?”
“Would you have climbed into my wagon?”
She couldn't answer.
Margaret interrupted.
“We don't have much time.”
She opened another paper.
“Cyrus knows Hannah has reached legal age.”
“So?”
“So Elizabeth left property.”
Hannah stared at her.
“What property?”
Margaret looked toward Jacob.
“A ranch.”
Hannah almost laughed again.
“I don't own a ranch.”
“You do.”
“Where?”
Margaret's answer made Jacob go still.
“Here.”
Hannah turned toward him.
“The Mercer ranch?”
“Part of it,” Margaret said. “The north valley. Nearly two thousand acres.”
Jacob closed his eyes briefly.
Hannah understood.
“You knew that too.”
“Yes.”
“Was that what you bought?”
“No.”
“Then prove it.”
“I can't prove what was in my head.”
“Try.”
Jacob looked directly at her.
“I would have paid fifty dollars, the bull, this ranch, and everything else I own to get you out of that cabin.”
Hannah's anger faltered.
“Why?”
“Because Mary asked me to.”
Only that.
Not love.
Not desire.
A promise to his dead wife.
Somehow it hurt more than she expected.
Margaret gathered the papers.
“We need the original deed.”
“Where?”
“Thomas hid it before he died.”
“Where?”
Margaret looked at Hannah's Bible.
“He told Elizabeth the hiding place.”
Hannah opened the book.
They searched every page.
Nothing.
Then Ruth touched the spine.
“There's another piece.”
Beneath the loosened leather was a narrow strip of paper.
Hannah pulled it free.
Four words had been written there.
Beneath the room that locks.
Jacob looked upstairs.
Hannah understood.
Her bedroom.
They climbed together.
Jacob moved the bed.
One floorboard beneath it was newer than the others.
He knelt and pried it upward.
Below was darkness.
Not a shallow compartment.
A staircase.
Hannah lifted the lamp.
Cold air rose from beneath the house.
Jacob took his rifle.
“Stay behind me.”
This time Hannah didn't argue.
They descended.
At the bottom stood a narrow wooden door.
There was a lock on Hannah's side.
She reached for it.
Before she touched it, they heard movement beyond the door.
A breath.
Then a woman's voice whispered from the darkness.
“Hannah?”
May you like
She reached for the door handle.
It was already turning from the other side...
