Chapter 7 - Someone Had Been Watching the Mercer Farm
Caleb did not speak until they were halfway home.
Hannah rode ahead.
Her anger kept her warm against the mountain wind.
Finally Caleb said, “He wants you to distrust me.”
“He succeeded.”
“Hannah.”
“What happened that night?”
“I told you.”
“You told me part.”
Caleb’s jaw tightened.
She stopped her horse.
“So tell me the rest.”
Caleb looked toward the mountains.
“Thomas wasn’t alone when he reached Miller’s Ridge.”
Hannah waited.
“There were two riders behind him.”
“Rusk?”
“One was.”
“The other?”
“I never saw his face.”
“Gideon?”
“Maybe.”
“Why didn’t you go to the sheriff?”
“The sheriff was Rusk’s brother-in-law.”
Hannah remembered.
The old sheriff had retired three months after Thomas died.
Caleb continued.
“I got Thomas off the ridge. He was hurt badly. We sheltered near the river.”
Hannah gripped the reins.
“He could talk?”
“For a while.”
“Did he tell you who chased him?”
“He said Vane knew about the evidence.”
“Did he say Vane was there?”
“No.”
“What are you hiding?”
Caleb looked at her.
“When Thomas stopped breathing, I went after Rusk.”
Hannah went still.
“I found him near the northern road.”
“What happened?”
“I nearly killed him.”
The words were quiet.
Matter-of-fact.
Hannah stared.
“Nearly?”
“Thomas made me promise not to before he died.”
“Then why—”
“Because grief makes promises difficult.”
She understood more than she wanted to.
“I stopped.”
“Why?”
Caleb looked at her belly.
“He told me you might be carrying his child.”
Hannah’s anger cracked.
“He said if I turned myself into a murderer, no one would remain to help you if Vane came.”
They rode again.
Slower.
At the farm they discovered the front door open.
Caleb dismounted before the horse stopped.
He entered first.
Hannah followed.
The cabin had been searched.
Drawers emptied.
Mattress cut.
Cupboards opened.
Thomas’s coat lay on the floor.
Lucy’s basket was overturned.
Hannah screamed the baby’s name.
Then a cry came from outside.
Abigail appeared from behind the barn holding Lucy.
“I saw riders coming,” she said. “I took her.”
Hannah nearly collapsed.
Caleb took Lucy from Abigail and held her against his chest.
His face remained calm.
But Hannah saw his hands shaking.
“Who?”
“Two men,” Abigail said. “Didn’t recognize them.”
Caleb walked through the house.
“They were looking for the papers.”
Hannah touched Thomas’s coat.
“No.”
She lifted it.
“They were looking for something else too.”
The hidden seams had been cut open.
Every inch.
Caleb looked toward the wall.
“Thomas’s letter.”
Hannah immediately touched her dress.
Still inside the inner pocket.
Safe.
She had carried it all day without opening it.
That night they moved the evidence.
Not to the barn.
Not to Abigail’s house.
They divided it among six families Vane had cheated.
If one home was searched, the rest would remain.
It was Hannah’s idea.
Caleb approved.
“Thomas would have done that.”
“I am not Thomas.”
“I know.”
The way he said it made her look at him.
Something had changed between them.
Not romance.
Not yet.
Something quieter.
Trust trying to grow in damaged soil.
Before sleeping, Hannah finally opened Thomas’s letter.
She read only the first line.
My dearest Han, if you are reading this, then I was not brave enough to tell you the truth while I still had time.
She closed it.
Not tonight.
Her heart could not take any more ghosts.
Near midnight Caleb heard something.
He rose from the kitchen chair.
He no longer slept in the spare room.
Not after the break-in.
He slept near the door with Lucy.
Outside, a lantern moved near the lower field.
Caleb woke Hannah.
“Stay inside.”
“I am tired of that sentence.”
“This time I mean it.”
“You mean it every time.”
He gave her a look.
She stayed.
For three minutes.
Then followed with Thomas’s old shotgun.
Caleb stood near the barn.
A man had been caught beside the fence.
Young.
Maybe eighteen.
Caleb held him by the collar.
“Who sent you?”
“No one.”
“Bad answer.”
“I was just passing.”
“With lamp oil?”
Hannah saw the bottle.
Her stomach tightened.
The young man looked terrified.
“Vane paid me.”
“How much?” Hannah asked.
He recognized her.
“Five dollars.”
“To burn my barn?”
“To scare you.”
Caleb’s expression became dangerous.
The boy backed away.
Hannah stepped between them.
“Go.”
Caleb looked at her.
“Hannah.”
“He’s a boy.”
“He could have burned the house.”
“But he didn’t.”
She looked at the young man.
“Tell Gideon Vane something for me.”
The boy swallowed.
“What?”
“Tell him Thomas Mercer’s widow is done being scared.”
The boy ran.
Caleb stared after him.
“That was unwise.”
“Probably.”
“You have a habit.”
“I bought you, didn’t I?”
He shook his head.
Hannah almost smiled.
Then Caleb looked toward the ridge.
“One watcher won’t be the last.”
He was right.
At sunrise three riders appeared on the southern road.
But they were not Gideon’s men.
They were farmers.
Then another wagon arrived.
Then another.
By nine in the morning, seventeen people stood in Hannah’s yard.
Abigail Quinn had told them about the original contracts.
Families Vane had taken land from.
Families who wanted answers.
One elderly farmer removed his hat.
“Mrs. Mercer, we hear Thomas left proof.”
Hannah looked at the crowd.
For the first time, she understood what Thomas had been trying to build.
Not a case.
A resistance.
She climbed onto the porch.
“Yes,” she said.
“He did.”
A rider appeared on the ridge.
Gideon Vane.
He saw the crowd.
Hannah saw him.
For the first time since Thomas’s funeral, Gideon did not look powerful.
He looked cornered.
But cornered men, Caleb had warned her, were often the most dangerous.
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And Gideon Vane still controlled the bank, the deputy, half the town council, and every piece of paper that officially said who owned what.
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