Chapter 9 - What Mary Left Behind
Hattie did not open the letter immediately.
She carried it back to the cabin.
Set it on the table.
Stared at it.
Gideon stared too.
Red Lawson swore continuously from his chair.
Neither listened.
Finally Gideon said, “It’s yours.”
Hattie touched the envelope.
“How could she know there would be another woman?”
“She knew me better than I knew myself.”
Hattie almost smiled.
“Apparently.”
She opened it.
Mary’s handwriting was weaker than in the journal.
The letter was short.
Dear stranger,
If you are reading this, then Gideon survived me. For that I am grateful.
Hattie paused.
Gideon looked away.
She continued.
He will believe loving someone twice is a betrayal. He is foolish that way. Please do not allow him to turn my memory into a prison.
Hattie’s throat tightened.
He is not an easy man. He forgets to speak. He leaves tools everywhere. He thinks silence solves arguments. It does not.
Hattie laughed through tears.
Gideon looked offended.
“She knew.”
“She certainly did.”
The letter continued.
But he is kind when nobody watches. He leaves the warmest blanket for someone else. He carries injured animals home and pretends he wanted them. He will love you through actions before he finds courage for words.
Hattie glanced at him.
Gideon’s expression made her heart hurt.
The final lines read:
If you love him, make him live.
And if you do not, make him live anyway.
Do not compete with a dead woman. You have already won by being alive.
Mary Hayes
Hattie lowered the letter.
Silence filled the cabin.
Red finally muttered, “Touching.”
Gideon turned toward him with murder in his eyes.
Hattie stood between them again.
“We need him alive.”
“Why?”
“Because those letters need explaining.”
Red laughed.
“You think anyone in town cares?”
Hattie looked at the evidence.
“Yes.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Then why did you come through a blizzard searching for them?”
That silenced him.
Hattie sat.
“We’re taking him down.”
Gideon shook his head.
“The pass is closed.”
“When it opens.”
“He has partners.”
“Who?”
Red smiled.
That worried Hattie more than an answer.
“Who?” she repeated.
He leaned back.
“You think I climbed this mountain alone because I’m stupid?”
“Yes.”
For the first time Gideon laughed.
Even Red looked annoyed.
Hattie continued.
“Who else is involved?”
Red’s smile returned.
“Men with money.”
“Names.”
“No.”
Gideon unfolded one letter.
“I can read them.”
Red’s face changed.
Hattie noticed.
Gideon noticed too.
He began scanning.
“Denver.”
Another.
“St. Louis.”
Another.
Then he stopped.
“What?”
Hattie leaned closer.
Gideon handed her the page.
At the bottom was a signature.
Hattie read it twice.
Her blood turned cold.
Horace Miller.
Her uncle.
“No.”
Gideon looked at her.
“You know him.”
Hattie could barely speak.
“He stole my father’s business.”
Red smiled slowly.
“Well.”
Hattie looked toward him.
“How do you know my uncle?”
Red said nothing.
She approached.
“Answer me.”
He shrugged.
“Horace invested.”
“In the mine?”
“The mine that didn’t exist yet.”
Hattie stared at the letter.
Horace had sent Red money to purchase mining equipment.
He expected enormous profits.
The date was only six months after Hattie’s father died.
A thought struck her.
“How much?”
Red laughed.
“Enough to bankrupt a butcher.”
Hattie remembered the shop.
The missing money.
Her uncle claiming the business could not pay its debts.
Her father had kept careful books.
After his death, accounts vanished.
Now she understood.
Horace had not stolen the business merely from greed.
He had stripped it for investment money.
Money sent west.
To Red Lawson.
For a fraudulent mine.
Hattie sat.
Gideon crouched beside her.
“Hattie.”
“My father built that shop.”
“I know.”
“Thirty years.”
Her anger rose.
“He took it and sent the money to this man.”
Red shifted.
“Wasn’t my idea.”
Hattie looked at him.
“You took it.”
“I took investments.”
“For a claim you did not own.”
Red’s smile vanished.
Hattie studied the letters.
Suddenly Colorado no longer felt like an escape from her old life.
Her old life had followed her west.
Gideon touched her shoulder carefully.
“We’ll fix it.”
Hattie almost laughed.
“How?”
“We take this to the law.”
“You think my uncle will simply return everything?”
“No.”
Gideon’s expression hardened.
“But he’ll answer.”
Hattie looked at him.
For years she had imagined reclaiming the shop.
Not because she wanted to spend her life behind a butcher counter.
Because it had belonged to her father.
Because Horace had stolen her history.
Now she held evidence that might prove it.
“What happens to the gold?”
Gideon glanced toward Red.
“I don’t care.”
Red laughed.
“That’s a lie.”
“It isn’t.”
“There’s enough in that mountain to make you rich.”
“I’ve lived without it.”
Red leaned forward as far as the ropes allowed.
“You know what men would pay?”
Gideon looked toward Hattie.
Then back.
“I already have what I want.”
Hattie’s breath caught.
Red rolled his eyes.
“Christ.”
But Hattie continued staring at Gideon.
Neither spoke.
They did not need to.
Later, while Red slept tied to the chair, Hattie stood beside the window.
The storm had begun weakening.
Gideon joined her.
“Your arm?”
“Hurts.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t shoot me.”
“I brought this into your life.”
“My uncle brought part of it.”
Gideon sighed.
Hattie looked toward him.
“Mary’s letter.”
“Yes?”
“She was right.”
“About what?”
“You do leave tools everywhere.”
He groaned.
Hattie smiled.
Then she became serious.
“And about something else.”
Gideon waited.
“You have spent nine years trying not to live.”
His face tightened.
“She asked you not to.”
“I know.”
“Are you going to listen?”
He looked at her.
“Hattie.”
“Yes?”
“I’m afraid.”
She understood.
“Of loving me?”
“Yes.”
“Because I might die.”
“Yes.”
Hattie stepped closer.
“So might you.”
“I know.”
“So might everyone.”
“I know.”
“Then fear is not a reason to waste what time we have.”
Gideon’s eyes dropped to her mouth.
Hattie felt her heartbeat accelerate.
He lifted a hand.
Stopped.
Giving her a choice.
Hattie closed the distance.
Their first kiss was gentle.
Almost uncertain.
Then Gideon’s hand touched her cheek.
Hattie leaned closer.
Warmth spread through her.
For a few seconds there was no gold.
No Red.
No storm.
No ghosts.
Just two people who had somehow found each other in the wrong saloon at the right time.
When they separated, Gideon rested his forehead against hers.
“I should have told you everything.”
“Yes.”
“I will from now on.”
“You had better.”
A crash came from behind them.
They turned.
Red’s chair lay on its side.
The ropes were empty.
The back door stood open.
May you like
And Mary’s letters were gone.
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