Chapter 9 - Thomas’s Last Promise
They did not go to Pine Hollow.
Jed changed direction immediately.
“We need a federal marshal,” he said.
“Where?”
“Fort Benton.”
Alandre stared at the mountains.
“How far?”
“Five days in good weather.”
“And this?”
Jed looked toward the gathering clouds.
“Isn’t good weather.”
Clayton laughed.
“Very encouraging.”
Alandre ignored him.
They sheltered that evening in a line shack abandoned by cattlemen.
Thomas’s papers covered the table.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Samuel Pike.
Pine Hollow marshal.
Payments marked as “protection.”
Transfer fees.
Witness expenses.
Alandre’s stomach turned.
“The law helped Clayton steal those claims.”
“Some law,” Jed said.
Clayton stretched his legs.
“You two speak as though corruption were unusual.”
Alandre stared at him.
“What happened to you?”
Clayton frowned.
“What?”
“Were you born believing other people were pieces on a game board?”
Jed looked at her.
Clayton smiled.
“Do you expect a tragic childhood?”
“No.”
“Good. I haven’t one.”
That answer disturbed her more than any excuse.
Clayton continued.
“My father owned stores. My mother played piano. I was educated. Fed. Loved sufficiently.”
“Then why?”
Clayton shrugged.
“Because I discovered early that most rules exist only because most people agree to obey them.”
Jed said, “And you mistook that for wisdom.”
Clayton’s eyes hardened.
Alandre turned away.
She unfolded Thomas’s letter once more.
There was writing along the back she had not noticed.
Small.
Faded.
Ally knows where my first promise lives.
She whispered it aloud.
Jed looked up.
“What’s his first promise?”
Alandre stared at the words.
Their wedding vows?
No.
The first promise Thomas had ever made her came before marriage.
They had been sitting beside her mother’s garden in Missouri.
Thomas had held her hand and said:
If you ever marry me, I promise you’ll always have a piece of home.
A piece of home.
Alandre closed her eyes.
“The quilt.”
Jed frowned.
“We already found the documents.”
“Not that.”
She examined the quilt again.
Thomas’s mother had made it.
A piece of home.
Alandre felt every stitched section.
Near one corner she discovered something else.
A tiny pocket.
Inside was a brass key.
Clayton sat upright.
Alandre held it up.
“What does this open?”
Clayton said nothing.
Jed took the key.
A number was stamped on it.
47.
“A deposit box,” Jed said.
“Where?”
Clayton looked toward the window.
Alandre noticed.
“Pine Hollow.”
His silence answered.
Jed cursed softly.
The corrupt marshal.
The town they had just decided to avoid.
Alandre looked at the key.
“Thomas left something there.”
“Maybe,” Jed said.
“Important enough to call his first promise.”
Jed considered.
Clayton leaned back.
“You’d be fools to go.”
Alandre almost laughed.
“That means we’re definitely going.”
Jed looked at her.
“It could be a trap.”
“So could Fort Benton.”
“Pike will recognize me.”
“Then don’t walk into town.”
“Alandre—”
“We need to know what is in box forty-seven.”
Clayton smiled faintly.
Jed saw it.
“You know.”
Clayton looked innocent.
“Know what?”
“What’s inside.”
“No.”
“Then why are you smiling?”
“Because Thomas Collins managed to make trouble three months after dying. I almost admire him.”
Alandre’s voice became quiet.
“He’ll make trouble much longer than that.”
The next afternoon, Pine Hollow appeared below them.
A frontier town built along a muddy main street.
Storefronts.
Stable.
Church.
Sheriff’s office.
Land office.
Bank.
Alandre could see men moving through town.
Jed watched from the ridge.
“Pike keeps two deputies.”
Clayton said, “Three now.”
Jed turned.
“How do you know?”
“I pay them.”
Alandre looked at Clayton.
“Then you’re staying here.”
“With him?” Clayton nodded toward Jed. “Charming.”
Jed tied Clayton securely inside an abandoned miner’s cabin above town.
Alandre changed clothes.
She removed her heavy mountain coat and wore the plain green dress and cream apron she had packed months ago.
Jed watched.
“You look like a schoolteacher.”
“I was one before I married Thomas.”
“You never told me.”
“You never asked.”
The words carried more meaning than either acknowledged.
Alandre took the brass key.
“How long?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“And if I don’t return?”
“I come get you.”
“No.”
Jed frowned.
“If I don’t return, Pike has recognized something. You take the papers to Fort Benton.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You just told me I deserved truth. I deserve choice too.”
Jed’s jaw tightened.
She stepped closer.
“Trust me.”
The same challenge she had given him before.
Finally he nodded.
Alandre walked alone into Pine Hollow.
At the bank, an elderly clerk adjusted his spectacles.
“Box forty-seven?”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
Alandre hesitated.
“Thomas Collins.”
The clerk looked at her.
“Relationship?”
“His wife.”
The man’s face changed.
Not suspicion.
Sympathy.
“I heard what happened.”
Alandre’s throat tightened.
“Then you know why I’m here.”
He led her downstairs.
Box forty-seven was small.
The key turned.
Inside sat a sealed envelope.
And a photograph.
Alandre picked up the photograph.
Thomas stood beside another man.
Jedodiah Boone.
Both looked serious.
On the back, Thomas had written:
If something happens to me, trust the man in this picture only after he finally tells you everything.
Despite herself, Alandre almost laughed through her tears.
Thomas knew Jed too well.
She opened the envelope.
Inside was one final document.
A sworn statement bearing Thomas’s signature.
It named Clayton Reynolds.
Samuel Pike.
And three territorial officials.
Enough to bring federal investigators.
Alandre heard footsteps above.
Then the bank clerk appeared.
His face was pale.
“Mrs. Collins?”
“Yes?”
“Marshal Pike would like a word.”
Outside the vault, three armed men waited.
And Alandre realized Thomas had left the evidence.
May you like
But he had not left instructions for getting out alive.
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