Chapter 9 - What Daniel Saw
Levi Sloane escaped.
Again.
The fires were contained.
The hay shed lost half its roof.
The north storehouse burned badly enough that part of the hidden freight evidence was destroyed, but Walter Crane’s ledger survived because Clara had removed it earlier.
The bay horse returned before dawn.
Reins dragging.
No rider.
A diversion.
Exactly as Clara suspected.
Amos Rusk sat at the table when she placed the scorched ledger page in front of him.
He read it.
His face collapsed.
Elias stood behind Clara.
Tom blocked the door.
“Explain,” Elias said.
Amos did not look up.
“Levi?”
“Yes.”
“Was he here?”
“Yes.”
“Did you pay him to damage Samuel’s wagon?”
Clara’s voice was quiet.
That made it worse.
Rusk looked at her.
“No.”
“The ledger says you authorized a payment.”
“Yes.”
“For wagon adjustment.”
“Yes.”
“Then explain.”
Rusk rubbed his face.
“I paid Levi to switch Samuel’s wagon.”
Clara’s pulse hammered.
“Why?”
“To protect him.”
She almost struck him.
Elias saw it and stepped closer, not to restrain her, but perhaps to be ready.
Rusk continued quickly.
“Samuel told me he intended to confront Carter. I knew Carter watched his wagon. So I hired Levi to exchange Samuel’s wagon with another one before he left Black Creek.”
“Did he?”
“Yes.”
“Then how did Samuel die?”
“The replacement wagon failed.”
Clara stared.
Rusk’s voice broke.
“I thought Carter had sabotaged Samuel’s original wagon. I was right.”
“But the one Samuel drove also broke.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the truth.”
Elias picked up the page.
“Levi implied Amos knew who killed Samuel.”
Rusk shook his head.
“Levi lies.”
“He also set fire to my ranch.”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t mean every word is false.”
Clara leaned forward.
“Who knew the wagons were switched?”
“Me. Levi.”
“Anyone else?”
Rusk hesitated.
“Samuel.”
“That’s all?”
“I believe so.”
Daniel Price stood in the doorway.
His face was pale.
“I saw Levi.”
Everyone turned.
“When?”
“Years ago.”
Tom frowned.
“You were a child.”
“I was thirteen.”
“Where?”
“Black Creek stable.”
Daniel swallowed.
“My uncle ran the feed yard. Levi used to come through.”
Clara stepped closer.
“What did you see?”
Daniel looked frightened.
Not of them.
Of memory.
“He had a saw.”
Clara’s hands went cold.
“On the night Samuel died?”
“I don’t know the exact night.”
“Think.”
“It was winter. Early. I remember because Uncle made me sleep in the loft when the roads iced.”
“What was Levi doing?”
“Cutting an axle.”
Elias stiffened.
Daniel continued.
“Not all the way. Just making a notch.”
“Which wagon?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
“My uncle.”
“What did he say?”
Daniel looked down.
“He hit me.”
Tom muttered, “Christ.”
“He told me never to mention Levi or Carter Freight again.”
“Why?”
“Because he owed Carter money.”
The same pattern.
Debt.
Silence.
Fear.
Clara sat.
“So Levi sabotaged a wagon.”
“Maybe,” Elias said carefully.
“He did.”
“We don’t know it was Samuel’s.”
“But Rusk paid him to exchange them.”
Rusk looked sick.
“Which means he had access to both.”
Clara’s eyes burned.
“He could have damaged the replacement after learning about the switch.”
“Yes.”
Elias said the word reluctantly.
Rusk whispered, “I tried to save Samuel.”
Clara looked at him.
“You failed.”
“I know.”
“And then you said nothing for six years.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
Rusk’s eyes filled.
“Because admitting what I knew meant admitting what I’d done.”
Clara understood that kind of shame.
She did not forgive it.
Understanding was not forgiveness.
The next problem arrived before breakfast.
A rider approached from the south.
Not Levi.
Sheriff Nathan Crowe of Black Creek.
He came with two deputies.
Elias went outside.
Crowe was a broad man with a gray mustache and a face that looked carved from dry timber.
“Mercer.”
“Sheriff.”
“Heard you’ve had trouble.”
“Who told you?”
Crowe looked toward the burned shed.
“Smoke carries.”
“Not twelve miles through a blizzard.”
Crowe smiled.
“No.”
Elias waited.
The sheriff dismounted.
“Jeremiah Carter reported stolen property.”
Tom laughed.
Actually laughed.
Crowe’s eyes hardened.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing.”
“What property?” Elias asked.
“Six sacks flour. Two sacks beans. Coffee. Molasses.”
Clara walked onto the porch.
The exact goods from the hidden cellar.
Carter was claiming them.
Elias understood immediately.
“He says we stole supplies from him?”
“Claims a freight cache was taken.”
“From my land?”
Crowe looked uncomfortable.
“Carter says he leased storage space from your father.”
“My father is dead.”
“Contract may still apply.”
“Show it.”
“Don’t have it.”
“Then you have no reason to search my property.”
Crowe sighed.
“Elias, don’t make this difficult.”
Clara saw it.
Not corruption exactly.
Fear.
Crowe wanted to leave.
He did not want to confront Carter.
He did not want to confront Elias.
He wanted paperwork to decide morality for him.
Carter understood men like that.
“Sheriff,” Clara said.
Crowe looked at her.
“You Mrs. Whitmore?”
“Yes.”
“Carter says you have possession of his freight records.”
“They were found in a hidden building on Mercer property.”
“Still may belong to him.”
“Then perhaps he would like to explain why those records contain shipments stolen from this ranch.”
Crowe’s expression changed.
“Stolen?”
Elias brought Walter’s ledger.
Not the original.
A copied page.
Clara had insisted on making copies the night before.
Crowe read.
The deputies exchanged looks.
“This is serious.”
“Yes,” Elias said.
“Could be fabricated.”
“It could.”
Crowe blinked, surprised by the agreement.
“That’s why you should investigate.”
Crowe folded the page.
“I’ll take the book.”
“No.”
“For evidence.”
“No.”
The sheriff’s face hardened.
“You questioning my authority?”
“I’m questioning whether that book reaches Black Creek if I hand it to you.”
Crowe flushed.
One deputy looked away.
Clara watched.
There it was.
Elias had touched the fear.
Crowe lowered his voice.
“You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No.”
The sheriff stepped closer.
“Carter owns notes from half the county. Judge included.”
“Then help us.”
“I have a wife.”
“So do half the men he owns.”
“Two daughters.”
Elias stopped.
Crowe’s voice became barely audible.
“Three months ago I tried to seize a Carter wagon carrying stolen mining equipment. My youngest disappeared on her way home from school.”
Clara’s stomach turned.
“What happened?”
“She came back before dark.”
“Was she hurt?”
“No.”
Crowe looked toward the road.
“She had a note pinned to her coat.”
Nobody asked what it said.
They understood.
The sheriff mounted.
“I didn’t come to arrest you.”
“Then why?”
“To warn you.”
“About what?”
Crowe met Elias’s eyes.
“Leave.”
“This is my ranch.”
“Not after March.”
Elias’s jaw tightened.
Crowe continued.
“Carter filed notice this morning. He intends to call the Mercer note.”
“March first.”
“He moved the date.”
“He can’t.”
“He says a theft clause allows immediate collection.”
“Forgery.”
“Maybe.”
“When?”
Crowe looked almost ashamed.
“Seven days.”
Clara felt the world tilt.
Seven days.
Twenty thousand dollars.
No food.
Winter roads closed.
Evidence trapped at Mercer Ranch.
Carter had stopped waiting.
The sheriff turned his horse.
Then Daniel ran from the barn.
“Wait!”
Crowe looked back.
Daniel held something in his hands.
A metal plate.
He had removed it from Elias’s bay saddle.
“What is it?” Tom asked.
Daniel flipped it.
Scratched into the underside were three numbers.
14-2-7.
Rusk went pale.
“What?” Elias demanded.
The old man looked toward the road.
“Carter freight code.”
“For what?”
“Fourteen means seizure.”
“Two?”
“Livestock.”
“And seven?”
Rusk’s voice was barely audible.
“Seven days.”
Carter did not merely intend to take the ranch on paper.
He intended to take the cattle first.
May you like
And without cattle, even if Elias somehow saved his land, Mercer Ranch would no longer be a ranch.
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