Chapter 13 - The Secret Sewn Into a Quilt
They left for Fort Benton before sunrise.
Clayton and Pike rode in a guarded wagon.
Jed rode beside Mercer.
Alandre carried the quilt.
She had slept perhaps two hours.
Not because she feared Clayton.
Because she kept thinking about the records office.
Fire could destroy originals.
It could destroy deeds.
Birth records.
Death certificates.
Proof that families existed where false papers claimed they did not.
Thomas’s copies mattered more now than ever.
Halfway north, Mercer called a halt beside a frozen river.
One deputy checked the wagon.
Alandre sat beneath a pine and unfolded the quilt.
Something bothered her.
The hidden packet had contained copies.
The key had led to Thomas’s sworn statement.
But Thomas had been too careful.
Why place everything in two hiding places connected to Alandre?
If Clayton captured her, both could be discovered.
Thomas would have known that.
She examined the stitches again.
One corner.
Then another.
Jed sat beside her.
“You’re going to wear a hole through that thing.”
“Thomas hated loose ends.”
“He married you.”
She looked at him.
Jed tried unsuccessfully to appear innocent.
“Was that a joke?”
“No.”
“You’re learning dangerous habits.”
His smile faded when he saw her expression.
“What is it?”
“I think there’s more.”
Together they examined the quilt.
Near the center was a pattern of tiny red flowers.
One row had seven.
Another four.
Another nine.
Numbers.
Alandre’s pulse quickened.
“Thomas used codes in his freight ledgers.”
Jed leaned closer.
“These flowers aren’t random.”
She counted.
7-4-9-2.
“Could be coordinates?”
“Could be a combination.”
Alandre remembered the bank.
“Another box?”
Jed shook his head.
“Maybe.”
Mercer joined them.
After hearing the explanation, he examined the quilt.
“Fort Benton territorial archive has lock drawers with four-digit combinations.”
“Could Thomas have used one?”
“Yes.”
“Without records?”
“Clerks rent private storage.”
Alandre smiled faintly.
“Then Thomas left us another surprise.”
Clayton’s voice floated from the wagon.
“He left you a grave.”
Everyone turned.
Mercer walked toward him.
“You have something useful to say?”
Clayton sat behind bars.
“You think Reynolds Holdings kept every document in Helena?”
Mercer said nothing.
Clayton smiled.
“There are copies elsewhere.”
“Where?”
“I might tell you.”
“In exchange for?”
“My freedom.”
Mercer laughed once.
“No.”
“Then perhaps you’ll spend six months discovering how many judges I owned.”
Mercer walked away.
Clayton called after him.
“By then, every deed will be ashes.”
Alandre approached the wagon.
Jed tried to stop her.
She shook her head.
“Let me.”
Clayton looked at her.
“Mrs. Collins.”
“Thomas fooled you twice.”
His smile thinned.
“Once.”
“The false papers. The quilt. The bank statement.”
“That’s three.”
Clayton’s eyes hardened.
Alandre lowered her voice.
“And now you don’t know what else he hid.”
For the first time, Clayton looked uncertain.
That was the answer she needed.
He did not know about the code.
She turned away.
Clayton called, “Alandre.”
She stopped.
“If you continue this, you may discover things about Thomas you dislike.”
She faced him.
“You already tried that.”
“I told you he bargained for your life.”
“He loved me. That isn’t shameful.”
“He also worked for my company.”
Alandre froze.
Jed stepped closer.
Clayton smiled.
“There. Jed didn’t know that either.”
Mercer looked toward Clayton.
“Explain.”
“For eighteen months Thomas Collins processed land transfers for Reynolds Holdings.”
Alandre knew the company name.
Thomas had said he worked for a surveying firm.
“Lie.”
“No.”
Clayton leaned forward.
“Your husband helped record the very claims he later exposed.”
Alandre looked at Jed.
He seemed genuinely surprised.
Clayton continued.
“He signed papers. Took wages. Asked no questions until one family arrived at his office begging him not to remove them.”
Alandre’s mind raced.
Thomas had been quieter during his last year.
Troubled.
He had begun keeping journals.
“I don’t believe you.”
“You will.”
Mercer said, “Being employed by a company doesn’t make him part of the scheme.”
“Of course not.”
Clayton’s smile was cruel.
“But ignorance can be profitable.”
Alandre walked away.
She hated that the words hurt.
Not because she believed Thomas was evil.
Because she understood something.
Everyone had a past that became simpler after death.
She had turned Thomas into the perfect husband because grief needed him perfect.
But Thomas had been human.
Maybe he had overlooked things.
Maybe he had made mistakes.
Maybe exposing Clayton had been his attempt to correct them.
Jed stood beside her.
“You all right?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She looked at him sharply.
He continued.
“Means you don’t have to pretend.”
Alandre stared at the river.
“What if Thomas helped them?”
“Then he stopped.”
“What if people lost homes because he signed something?”
“Then he tried to fix it.”
“That doesn’t erase it.”
“No.”
Alandre looked at Jed.
He understood because this was his life.
“Is that how you live with yourself?”
“I don’t always.”
His honesty comforted her.
Alandre folded the quilt.
“Then maybe Thomas wasn’t trying only to expose Clayton.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe he was trying to make amends.”
Jed nodded slowly.
“Sounds familiar.”
By sunset they reached Fort Benton.
Mercer led them directly to the territorial archive.
Drawer 7492 existed.
The clerk opened it.
Inside were three ledgers.
Thomas’s private journal.
And dozens of notarized copies.
Enough to reconstruct nearly the entire scheme.
Alandre opened Thomas’s journal.
The first page read:
If Alandre is reading this, then I failed to come home.
Her eyes blurred.
She turned the page.
I need her to know one thing before anything else. I was not innocent when this began.
Alandre’s hands trembled.
The truth about Clayton had nearly destroyed her trust in Jed.
Now Thomas himself was about to ask her for the same difficult gift.
May you like
To love someone without pretending they had never failed.
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