Chapter 12 - The Deed Beneath the Floorboards
The bridge collapsed before they reached it.
That saved them.
Had the caravan arrived ten minutes earlier, half the wagons might have gone into the ravine.
Cora stood at the broken edge.
Timbers lay thirty feet below.
Boon crouched near one support.
“Cut.”
Walter Grady swore.
“Hyram?”
Boon examined the fresh axe marks.
“Almost certainly.”
Pike looked pale.
“He uses a ranch crew near here.”
“Names?” Boon asked.
Pike gave three.
A settler said he recognized two.
Judge Palmer’s emergency order was carried by another rider through the southern route.
At least the auction remained suspended.
But Helena now required a longer journey.
Four days instead of two.
They camped that night near Stag Creek.
Cora sat beside the fire.
Boon joined her.
“Cold?”
“Yes.”
He handed her his coat.
“No.”
“You’re shivering.”
“So are you.”
“I’m larger.”
“That is not how weather works.”
He placed the coat around her anyway.
Cora sighed.
“You’re irritating.”
“I’ve heard.”
She looked toward the others.
“Do you think we’ll win?”
Boon did not answer immediately.
“I think we have enough evidence to start an investigation.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“I don’t know.”
Cora appreciated that.
False confidence had become intolerable.
Boon poked the fire.
“My uncle will challenge the will.”
“The will helps him.”
“Maybe.”
She turned.
“What does that mean?”
“My father had another will.”
“You’re certain?”
“I signed as witness to part of it.”
“Where?”
“Family ranch office.”
“Then why does Hyram have a later one?”
“I don’t know.”
Cora frowned.
“Was your father sick?”
“Yes.”
“Confused?”
“Sometimes near the end.”
“Could Charles have pressured him?”
“Possibly.”
“Could Hyram?”
“Yes.”
She considered.
“What happened to the earlier will?”
“Missing.”
“Everything useful in your family seems to disappear.”
Boon smiled.
“I’ve noticed.”
The next morning a rider caught them.
Reverend Matthew.
He carried a telegram.
Cora read over Boon’s shoulder.
FROM BLACK PINE STOP
FOUND LETTER FROM SILAS TAGOT AMONG OLD CHURCH DONATIONS STOP
ADDRESSED TO BOON STOP
RETURN URGENT STOP
Boon stared.
“When?”
Matthew explained.
Silas Tagot had once donated money to the church.
Years later, boxes from the old Tagot ranch office had been given away after renovation.
A sealed envelope had been found beneath the false bottom of a donation crate.
“Why would it be there?” Cora asked.
“No idea.”
Boon looked toward Helena.
Then Black Pine.
“We can’t turn everyone around.”
Cora said, “You and I go back.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“We lose two days.”
“If the letter concerns the will, it could matter more than everything.”
Pike spoke.
“Take the north trail. You can return by tomorrow night.”
Boon looked at Cora.
She smiled faintly.
“You hate when I’m right.”
“I’m becoming accustomed.”
They rode back with Reverend Matthew.
The church was quiet.
Matthew retrieved the envelope.
Boon recognized his father’s handwriting.
To my son.
His hands trembled slightly.
Cora noticed.
“Open it.”
He did.
The letter was six pages.
Boon read silently.
His face changed.
“What?”
He handed it to Cora.
Silas Tagot had written the letter three months before death.
Boon,
I have spent my life believing ownership and stewardship were the same thing. They are not.
I have allowed men to suffer because I trusted reports instead of looking at the ground beneath my own boots.
Cole has lied to me.
I do not yet know how deeply.
If I fail to correct it, you must.
The valley is not ours merely because papers say so.
Families built lives there before our fences arrived.
I have instructed counsel to create a permanent homestead protection covenant. Any occupied parcel improved and filed before 1882 is to be recognized regardless of later syndicate survey conflicts.
Do not let Charles overturn this.
Do not let Cole bury it.
The signed deed is hidden where your mother once said a rich man would never think to look.
Forgive me for teaching you too late that land is not valuable because we own it.
It is valuable because someone loves it enough to stay.
Boon read the final line aloud.
Cora swallowed.
“Where would your mother say a rich man never looks?”
Boon almost smiled.
“The floor.”
“What?”
“She hated our house.”
“Helpful.”
“She used to say my father never looked down unless money fell there.”
Cora stared.
“The ranch house.”
Boon nodded.
“The old family ranch.”
“How far?”
“Six miles.”
They arrived before sunset.
The Tagot house had been abandoned for years.
Large.
Cold.
Dust everywhere.
Cora stepped inside.
“So this is where you grew up.”
“Partly.”
“It explains you.”
“What does that mean?”
“Too many rooms.”
Boon laughed.
They searched the main floor.
Nothing.
Then the study.
Cora walked slowly.
“Where did your mother spend time?”
“Window seat.”
They pulled boards.
Nothing.
“Your father?”
“Desk.”
Nothing.
Then Cora noticed scratches beneath the old rug.
A square outline.
“Boon.”
Together they lifted two boards.
Beneath them sat a tin document box.
Boon opened it.
Inside:
An earlier will.
The homestead covenant.
A signed deed declaration.
And letters documenting Silas’s suspicion of Hyram.
Cora stared.
“This saves everything.”
“Maybe.”
“Stop saying maybe.”
“It keeps me alive.”
She looked at him.
He smiled.
“Fine.”
They gathered the documents.
Then hoofbeats sounded outside.
Too many.
Boon went to the window.
Hyram Cole stood in the yard with six men.
Cora’s heart sank.
Hyram looked directly toward the study.
He called:
“You always were sentimental, Boon.”
Boon folded the covenant into his coat.
Hyram continued.
“I knew sooner or later you’d come home.”
Cora looked around.
No tunnels.
No back exit.
Only a second floor.
Boon glanced at her.
“Do you trust me?”
“No.”
“Close enough.”
He grabbed the lamp.
And threw it through the rear window.
Glass exploded.
Flame caught the snow-damp curtain.
Hyram’s men shouted.
Cora stared at Boon.
“You set your own house on fire?”
“Not yet.”
The burning curtain created smoke.
Boon kicked open a side panel Cora had thought was decorative.
A servant passage appeared.
“Too many rooms,” he said.
Cora followed.
Behind them, Hyram entered the house.
He had come for the deed.
But Boon and Cora had already taken the one document that could return every stolen farm in Bitterroot Valley.
May you like
If they survived long enough to use it.
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