Chapter 8 - The Ledger Beneath the Floorboards
Maeve had bruises around one wrist and a temper strong enough to frighten three grown men.
“I told him if he tied that knot any tighter, I'd haunt him.”
Isaiah chuckled.
“Did he believe you?”
“He should.”
Eliza sat beside Maeve inside the abandoned cabin.
“You're sure you're all right?”
“No.”
Maeve took Eliza's hand.
“But I will be.”
Something about those words comforted her.
Not pretending.
Not minimizing.
Will be.
Future tense.
Rowan stood outside.
He had barely spoken since Caleb mentioned Jonah.
Eliza watched him through the window.
“You should ask,” Maeve said.
“Ask what?”
“The question chewing through your skull.”
Eliza looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“I was married thirty-one years. Silence has different shapes.”
Eliza smiled faintly.
“What if the answer changes what I think of him?”
“Then it does.”
“That simple?”
“No.”
Maeve squeezed her fingers.
“But simple and easy aren't cousins.”
Eliza found Rowan near the horses.
“Was Jonah involved?”
He continued tightening a saddle strap.
“I don't know.”
“Caleb thinks he was.”
“Caleb says many things.”
“But that one frightened you.”
Rowan stopped.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He leaned against Bishop.
“The winter Jonah died, we'd been hauling freight for a company called Continental Supply.”
Eliza waited.
“Caleb worked for them later.”
“How much later?”
“Months.”
“And my father?”
“Bought shipments from Continental.”
Connections tightened.
“Was Jonah stealing?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
“You're certain?”
Rowan looked at her.
“No.”
That hurt him to admit.
“I was gone often. Jonah wanted money.”
“For what?”
“A ranch.”
Rowan smiled sadly.
“He talked about Wyoming. Grass forever. Fifty horses. Woman he'd never met waiting on the porch.”
“He was nineteen.”
“Exactly.”
Eliza almost smiled.
“What happened before the accident?”
“Jonah started carrying a notebook.”
“What kind?”
“Small black ledger.”
Her breath caught.
“Did you ask?”
“He said he was tracking wages.”
“Did you believe him?”
“Yes.”
“Where did the notebook go?”
“Missing after he died.”
Eliza understood Caleb's manipulation now.
Maybe Jonah had discovered the same theft Thomas later investigated.
Maybe his name appeared as thief.
Or witness.
Or victim.
“We need that cedar box.”
Rowan nodded.
“Yes.”
“Denver.”
“Yes.”
“How do we reach the house without Caleb knowing?”
“We don't.”
Eliza frowned.
“He expects us to go.”
“So we make him expect the wrong day.”
The plan took shape over the next twenty-four hours.
Isaiah would spread word that Rowan had taken Eliza west toward Leadville.
Maeve would remain with friends.
Rowan and Eliza would ride east after dark.
Two days later they reached Denver.
Eliza had not seen the city in nearly a year.
It felt different.
Louder.
More crowded.
Or perhaps she had changed.
The Mercer house stood on a quiet street lined with cottonwoods.
Caleb had kept it maintained.
That offended her.
Her childhood home looked beautiful under moonlight.
As though memory itself had betrayed her.
They entered through the alley.
Eliza knew a loose window in the pantry.
It was still loose.
“Some repairs Caleb ignored,” she whispered.
Inside, the house smelled dusty.
Covered furniture filled the parlor.
Her mother's piano remained against the wall.
Eliza touched one key.
No sound.
Rowan waited.
“You all right?”
“No.”
He nodded.
They moved toward the conservatory.
The door was locked.
Rowan examined it.
“New lock.”
“He searched here.”
“Probably.”
“Can you open it?”
“Yes.”
“You sound confident.”
“I had a morally flexible youth.”
Thirty seconds later the door opened.
Moonlight spilled through glass panes.
Dead planters filled the room.
The orange trees were gone.
Eliza's childhood sanctuary had become a graveyard of empty pots.
“Where winter never reaches,” she whispered.
Rowan searched the floor.
Nothing.
Eliza closed her eyes.
Think like Mother.
Games.
Birthday riddles.
Places adults overlooked.
She remembered hiding under the central planting table while Margaret pretended not to see her.
The table remained.
Eliza knelt.
Her ribs protested.
Rowan helped lift the heavy base.
Beneath it was dirt.
Only dirt.
Eliza's hope sank.
Then she noticed three stones arranged like stars.
Her hands trembled.
She removed them.
Beneath lay a cedar board.
Rowan pried it loose.
A narrow compartment appeared.
Inside was a box.
Cedar.
Eliza laughed through tears.
“My mother.”
Rowan smiled.
They lifted it out.
Locked.
Eliza touched her locket.
A tiny key had always been hidden inside the portrait frame.
She had believed it decorative.
The key fit.
The cedar box opened.
Inside lay documents wrapped in oilcloth.
A black ledger.
A packet of letters.
A second silver watch.
Eliza stared.
Rowan lifted the ledger.
Names filled each page.
Dates.
Payments.
Land transfers.
Sheriff Matthew Vale.
Judge Amos Weller.
Caleb Rourke.
And—
Jonah Creed.
Rowan stopped breathing.
Beside Jonah's name was a payment.
$75 — delivery completed.
Eliza looked at Rowan.
His face collapsed.
Then she noticed a notation beside it.
Not handwriting from the main ledger.
Her father's.
J.C. attempted to warn M. families. Payment likely forged. Boy afraid.
“Rowan.”
He stared.
“What?”
She pointed.
He read.
His eyes filled.
“Jonah tried to warn them.”
“He wasn't helping Caleb.”
Rowan sat heavily.
For years he had believed his brother died because of his own recklessness.
Now another possibility emerged.
Maybe Jonah had been running from men connected to the ledger.
Eliza opened the packet of letters.
The first was addressed to Margaret Mercer.
If I do not return, the proof is enough to reopen every claim. Caleb has the watch. Weller has the court. Vale has the law. Jonah Creed tried to help and may have paid for it.
Thomas.
Rowan covered his face.
Eliza touched his shoulder.
Then both heard it.
A floorboard creaked outside the conservatory.
Rowan extinguished the lantern.
Another creak.
A man whispered from the hallway.
“They found it.”
More footsteps.
At least four.
Rowan looked at Eliza.
She clutched the ledger.
The front door closed downstairs.
They were trapped inside the Mercer house—
May you like
with the evidence that could ruin half the powerful men in Fairplay.
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