Chapter 5 - The Foreman Who Ran
Silas reached the stable before anyone could stop him.
He threw a saddle onto his horse.
Eleanor stepped into the doorway.
“Move.”
“No.”
“Garrett is running.”
“Which is precisely why you should not chase him while angry.”
“He worked for me nine years.”
“I know.”
“I trusted him.”
“I know.”
“He ate at my table.”
Eleanor softened.
“And if he betrayed you, Sheriff Reed will find him.”
Silas stared.
“And if he didn’t?”
That stopped her.
Sheriff Reed rode into the yard.
“He’s right.”
Eleanor turned.
Reed pointed toward the road.
“A guilty man usually runs away from town.”
Silas frowned.
“Garrett went east.”
“Exactly.”
East led directly into Harland.
They found Garrett outside the telegraph office.
He had not been escaping.
He had been sending a message.
Sheriff Reed took the telegram.
ROARK TALKED. NEED DOCUMENTS IMMEDIATELY. MONTGOMERY IN DANGER.
Silas stared at Garrett.
“Explain.”
Garrett swallowed.
“I’ve been investigating Everett for six months.”
Silence.
“You what?”
“My brother works freight in St. Louis. He heard Everett bragging about acquiring land around Harland.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t know who to trust.”
“You could trust me.”
Garrett gave him a tired look.
“I knew exactly what you’d do.”
Silas said nothing.
“You’d confront Everett.”
Everyone knew he would have.
Garrett continued.
“Roark approached me three months ago.”
Eleanor understood.
“He tried to recruit you.”
“Yes.”
“You pretended to accept.”
Garrett nodded.
“That’s why he named you.”
Sheriff Reed folded the telegram.
“Can you prove any of this?”
“That’s what I sent for.”
Two days later, documents arrived from St. Louis.
Letters.
Receipts.
Bank transfers.
Enough to connect Everett to Roark and the inflated suppliers.
Enough to prove conspiracy and fraud.
Not enough to prove arson.
Silas should have felt relieved.
Instead, he seemed exhausted.
That evening Eleanor found him sitting on the porch.
She brought coffee.
He accepted it.
“You were right,” he said.
She sat beside him.
“About what?”
“Not chasing Garrett.”
“Could you repeat that?”
Silas looked suspicious.
“I’d like to remember the occasion.”
He smiled.
Then looked toward the fields.
“My father trusted no one.”
Eleanor waited.
“He used to say trust was just giving someone the weapon they’d eventually use against you.”
“That sounds lonely.”
“It was.”
“And yet you trusted Garrett.”
“Yes.”
“You trusted me.”
Silas looked at her.
“Yes.”
“Maybe your father was wrong.”
“Maybe.”
They sat quietly.
Then Silas asked, “Why didn’t you marry?”
Eleanor nearly dropped her cup.
“That was abrupt.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“No.”
She considered refusing.
Instead she answered.
“Nobody asked.”
Silas stared at her as if she had said something absurd.
Eleanor laughed.
“You look offended.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“Because that makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense.”
“No.”
“Silas.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Men do not exactly line up to marry poor women who look like me.”
His expression changed.
“What does that mean?”
“You know.”
“No.”
“Silas—”
“I know what cruel people say.”
He leaned forward.
“That isn’t the same thing as knowing what’s true.”
Eleanor looked down.
“I have mirrors.”
“So?”
She stared at him.
“You think because you aren’t shaped like the women in dress-shop advertisements that a man couldn’t find you beautiful?”
Her breath stopped.
Silas seemed to realize what he had said.
Neither moved.
“Do you?” Eleanor whispered.
His eyes met hers.
“Yes.”
One word.
Eleanor looked away.
“You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why?”
“Because I might believe you.”
“I’d prefer that.”
Silas moved closer.
Only slightly.
Enough that Eleanor could feel the warmth of his shoulder.
Then hoofbeats thundered toward the house.
Sheriff Reed.
Again.
Eleanor almost cursed his timing.
The sheriff jumped down.
“We’ve got a problem.”
Silas stood.
“What?”
“Roark is dead.”
The warmth vanished instantly.
“What happened?”
“Found beside the river.”
“Accident?”
Reed looked at Eleanor.
“No.”
The case had changed.
Financial fraud was one thing.
A murdered witness was another.
Reed placed deputies around the ranch.
For one week, nothing happened.
Then Everett disappeared.
His Harland property was empty.
His carriage gone.
Bank shares transferred.
Silas believed he had fled.
Eleanor disagreed.
“Men like Everett don’t leave because they lose.”
“What do they do?”
“Try to change the game.”
Winter arrived early.
Snow covered the ranch.
Life slowly returned to routine.
The almost-confession on the porch remained between Eleanor and Silas.
Neither mentioned it.
Until Christmas Eve.
Silas gave bonuses to the ranch hands.
Garrett received a new saddle.
Eleanor received an envelope.
She opened it.
Inside was a deed.
Five acres.
Southern edge of Montgomery Ranch.
Owner:
Eleanor Whitaker.
Her hands began trembling.
“I can’t accept this.”
“You can.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because this isn’t wages.”
“No.”
“It isn’t a bonus.”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
Silas stepped closer.
“Something nobody can take away from you.”
Eleanor stared at the deed.
Her land.
After a lifetime of sleeping in houses owned by other people, five acres of earth carried her name.
Tears came.
Silas looked terrified.
“Eleanor?”
She laughed through them.
“You watched a barn burn without looking this frightened.”
“I don’t know what to do when you cry.”
“Neither do I.”
Then Eleanor hugged him.
Silas froze.
Only for a second.
His arms wrapped around her.
She rested her cheek against his chest.
His heart was beating quickly.
So was hers.
When they separated, their faces remained close.
Silas raised one hand.
Stopped.
“May I?”
Eleanor nodded.
He wiped a tear from her cheek.
Then kissed her.
Softly.
Carefully.
Like asking a question.
Eleanor answered by kissing him back.
For several seconds, winter disappeared.
Then something struck the front door.
Hard.
They pulled apart.
Another impact.
Garrett shouted outside.
Silas opened the door.
An arrow was buried in the wood.
A note had been tied around it.
Silas removed it.
Eleanor read over his shoulder.
THE LAND ISN’T YOURS TO GIVE.
Below it:
ASK YOUR FATHER WHAT HE STOLE FROM MINE.
May you like
Silas went pale.
And Eleanor suddenly understood Everett Montgomery’s hatred had begun long before she entered that cornfield.
