Chapter 9 - The Road Back to Town
The stagecoach rattled hard enough to rearrange Josephine's bones.
After three hours she announced, “If this is civilization, I prefer the mountain.”
Harlan looked amused.
“Thought you missed St. Louis.”
“I miss paved streets.”
“Black Pine has a street.”
“Black Pine has mud pretending to be a street.”
The older woman seated across from them laughed.
Josephine realized she had become someone who made strangers laugh.
A month ago she barely spoke above a murmur.
She liked this version of herself.
The stage stopped at Redwater around dusk.
Sheriff Mercer believed Thomas Reed might have taken work at the railroad depot.
Harlan and Josephine rented two rooms at the hotel.
The clerk blinked.
“Two?”
“Yes,” Harlan said.
The man glanced at Josephine.
She smiled.
“My husband snores.”
Harlan looked offended.
“I do not.”
“How would you know?”
The clerk coughed to hide laughter.
Upstairs, Harlan said, “I don't snore.”
Josephine unlocked her door.
“I've heard you.”
“When?”
“The night the roof leaked.”
Harlan appeared genuinely wounded.
“You said nothing.”
“I was being kind.”
“Cruel woman.”
Josephine grinned and entered her room.
She had barely removed her coat when someone slid an envelope under the door.
Her smile vanished.
She opened it.
COME ALONE TO THE DEPOT AT NINE IF YOU WANT REED ALIVE.
No signature.
Josephine immediately opened the connecting hall door.
Harlan was already approaching.
“What happened?”
She handed him the note.
His face darkened.
“You're not going.”
Josephine folded her arms.
Harlan closed his eyes briefly.
“Poor choice of words.”
“Very.”
“I'm asking you not to go.”
“Better.”
“Josephine.”
“If Reed knows something, Vale may kill his testimony.”
“Then we go to the sheriff.”
“By nine?”
Harlan glanced toward the clock.
Eight twenty.
He swore quietly.
Josephine said, “I'm going.”
“Then I'm going with you.”
“It says alone.”
“It doesn't say I can't be nearby.”
At nine Josephine entered the depot.
Gas lamps illuminated empty platforms.
A freight train hissed in the distance.
“Mr. Reed?”
No answer.
She continued.
A young man stepped from behind stacked crates.
He was perhaps eighteen.
Thin.
Terrified.
“Mrs. Creek?”
“Thomas?”
He nodded.
Josephine relaxed slightly.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Sheriff Mercer said you saw someone buying kerosene.”
Thomas looked behind him.
“I shouldn't have talked.”
“You did the right thing.”
“My brother works for Vale.”
Josephine understood.
“He threatened him?”
Thomas nodded.
“Vale doesn't make threats himself. Mr. Bishop does.”
“Who is Bishop?”
“His foreman.”
Josephine remembered the third rider at the cabin.
“Can you testify?”
Thomas looked sick.
“If I do, my brother loses his job.”
“I can hire him.”
“What?”
“My land needs men.”
Josephine had not planned to say it.
But suddenly it seemed obvious.
“I'll pay fair wages.”
Thomas stared.
“You mean it?”
“Yes.”
A sound came from behind the crates.
Harlan emerged.
Thomas jumped.
“He's with me,” Josephine said.
“I thought you came alone.”
“I came alone enough.”
Harlan almost smiled.
Then another voice spoke.
“How touching.”
Silas Vale stepped from the darkness.
Two men stood behind him.
Harlan immediately moved beside Josephine.
Vale sighed.
“Mr. Creek. You do make simple matters difficult.”
Josephine looked toward Thomas.
The boy lowered his head.
“You told him.”
Thomas looked ashamed.
“They had my brother.”
Josephine did not blame him.
Vale approached.
“You see, Mrs. Creek, everyone has something they value.”
“Apparently you value my land.”
“Very much.”
“Then pay a fair price.”
“I offered one hundred thousand dollars.”
“You offered after trying to purchase me.”
His expression tightened.
“I made a mistake.”
“No.”
Josephine's voice hardened.
“You made a calculation.”
Vale's eyes chilled.
“You are becoming tiresome.”
Harlan stepped forward.
“Careful.”
Vale ignored him.
“The railroad chooses its final route in three weeks.”
Josephine's pulse quickened.
“Your pass is the only route that avoids thirty miles of blasting.”
“So?”
“So eventually somebody will take that land.”
“Not without my signature.”
Vale smiled.
“Are you certain?”
Josephine went still.
He produced a document.
A deed.
Her name appeared at the bottom.
A signature.
JOSEPHINE E. BELL.
Her blood went cold.
“That isn't mine.”
Vale's smile returned.
“Court records disagree.”
Harlan took the page.
“Forced?”
“Filed eleven years ago.”
Josephine stared.
She had been fifteen.
Vale continued.
“Your father transferred the property to himself while you were a minor and later sold an option to me.”
“That's impossible.”
“Is it?”
Josephine looked closely.
The signature resembled hers.
Too closely.
Then she remembered.
When she was fifteen, her father had made her copy pages of signatures for the furniture company's correspondence.
Practice, he'd called it.
No.
Not practice.
Forgery samples.
Vale put on his gloves.
“In seventy-two hours, territorial court will hear my petition confirming title.”
Josephine's chest tightened.
“You planned this.”
“I planned for complications.”
He smiled.
“Come to court if you like.”
Vale walked away.
Harlan started after him.
Josephine grabbed his arm.
“No.”
“He forged—”
“I know.”
“Then we stop him.”
Josephine stared at the document.
For years, everyone had fought over her.
Her father.
Vale.
Even Harlan, for good reasons.
Now she understood what had to change.
“No.”
Harlan looked at her.
May you like
“I stop him.”
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