Chapter 3 - A Debt That Refused to Die
The letter demanded payment within fourteen days.
Sarah read it three times.
Her old cabin, the small patch of land surrounding it, Thomas’s tools—everything had been pledged against debts accumulated during his illness.
She had known some money remained unpaid.
She had not known how much.
She certainly had not known Silas Mercer had purchased the notes.
Everyone in Laramie knew Mercer.
He lent money to desperate people and acquired their property when desperation inevitably failed to pay interest.
Sarah folded the letter before Penny could see.
But Garrett saw her face.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“I dislike lies.”
Sarah stiffened.
“I don't work for you every minute of the day, Mr. Thorne.”
“No. But you're standing in my kitchen looking like someone died.”
“Someone already did.”
The words came out sharper than intended.
Garrett’s expression changed.
Sarah looked away.
“I’m sorry.”
“What does Mercer want?”
Her head snapped toward him.
“How did you know?”
Garrett pointed at the envelope.
She had forgotten the return mark.
Sarah sighed.
“He bought Thomas’s debt.”
“How much?”
“That is my concern.”
Garrett’s jaw tightened.
“Sarah.”
It was the first time he had used her given name.
She noticed.
So did he.
Neither acknowledged it.
“I will handle it.”
“With what?”
“My wages.”
“It would take years.”
“Then I’ll work years.”
Garrett admired the answer and hated it simultaneously.
“Mercer isn't interested in your wages.”
“What do you mean?”
“He buys debt when he wants property.”
Sarah stared at him.
“My cabin isn't worth much.”
“Perhaps not the cabin.”
Garrett walked toward the window.
“What lies beneath the land?”
“Dirt.”
“Water.”
Sarah frowned.
“There’s a spring behind the eastern ridge.”
Garrett turned.
“Year-round?”
“Yes.”
Now she understood.
Water was worth more than timber in cattle country.
Mercer wanted the spring.
“I won't sell.”
“He knows.”
“Then he can go to hell.”
Garrett’s eyebrow lifted.
Sarah flushed.
“Forgive me.”
“I was going to say the same thing.”
That evening Garrett offered to buy the debt.
Sarah refused.
“I don't want charity.”
“It isn't charity.”
“What would you call it?”
“Practicality.”
“I would call it owing another man.”
“You already owe another man.”
“That is different.”
Garrett’s frustration grew.
“Why?”
“Because you gave me work when I needed it. If you rescue me from everything else too, someday I won't know whether I survived because I was strong enough or because Garrett Thorne decided to save me.”
Garrett went silent.
Nobody spoke to him that way.
Sarah continued.
“I need the first answer.”
Something like respect appeared in his eyes.
“All right.”
She blinked.
“All right?”
“I won't buy your debt.”
“Thank you.”
“But I will help you understand what Mercer is doing.”
Sarah hesitated.
“That I’ll accept.”
They spent the next three nights examining Thomas’s papers.
Penny usually fell asleep nearby.
Sometimes Garrett carried her to bed.
The first time it happened, he stood frozen with the sleeping child in his arms.
Penny’s cheek rested against his chest.
One little fist clutched his waistcoat.
Sarah watched his expression.
Pain.
Fear.
Love he didn't want.
Garrett carried her upstairs anyway.
Days passed.
Thorne Ranch changed.
Penny ate breakfast beside ranch hands.
She named a calf Biscuit.
She followed Garrett around whenever permitted.
And Garrett, despite constant complaints, always seemed to know exactly where she was.
Then Mercer came.
His black carriage arrived shortly before sunset.
He was tall, narrow-faced, and dressed too elegantly for ranch country.
Sarah met him in the foyer.
“You have my letter.”
“Yes.”
“Then you understand.”
“I understand that you bought the debt hoping to take my land.”
Mercer smiled.
“You always were direct.”
Garrett appeared behind her.
Mercer’s smile disappeared.
“Thorne.”
“Mercer.”
“This doesn't concern you.”
“It concerns someone living beneath my roof.”
Sarah glanced at Garrett.
Mercer noticed.
Something calculating entered his eyes.
“How touching.”
Garrett stepped closer.
“Careful.”
Mercer handed Sarah another document.
“Fourteen days.”
Then he departed.
But as the carriage disappeared, Penny came running from the parlor.
She held something.
“Mr. Garrett!”
Garrett crouched.
“What?”
“The bad man dropped this.”
It was a small leather notebook.
Mercer must have lost it.
Sarah looked toward the road.
“We should return it.”
Garrett opened the cover.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He flipped another page.
Then another.
“This isn't a personal notebook.”
“What is it?”
“Accounts.”
Mercer’s private accounts.
Names.
Properties.
Payments.
And beside several entries were marks Garrett recognized immediately.
Altered interest.
Duplicated fees.
Debts that appeared to have been manufactured.
Sarah’s name was among them.
Garrett looked at her.
“Your husband may not have owed Mercer anything.”
Sarah’s heart began pounding.
“What?”
Garrett turned another page.
Then stopped.
There, beside Thomas Miller’s name, was another name.
A name Garrett knew.
One connected to Thorne Ranch.
And suddenly Sarah’s debt was no longer merely her problem.
May you like
Someone inside Garrett’s own operation had helped Mercer create it.
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