Chapter 6 - Behind the Flour Bin
Morning brought Gideon Pike’s first message.
It came nailed to the porch post.
Graham found it before sunrise.
A single sheet folded around a legal notice.
PROPERTY CLAIM HEARING — TWELVE DAYS.
Except twelve days had become eight.
Below the printed notice, somebody had written one sentence.
Some houses are easier to leave than return to.
Graham tore it down.
Silas read it over his shoulder.
“He knows.”
“Obviously.”
“Means somebody is watching.”
Graham scanned the road.
Nothing moved.
Leah stepped onto the porch.
She read the message.
Her face went pale.
“You’ve seen that handwriting?”
She nodded.
“Caleb Doss.”
Graham looked toward the barn.
“We ride into town first.”
“I thought we were going to Cottonwood.”
“We need supplies.”
“And?”
“And I want Pike to see me.”
Silas smiled without humor.
“Now there’s the boy I remember.”
“I’m not a boy.”
“No. Boy had better manners.”
Red Bluff had grown.
Graham noticed immediately.
The dirt road had widened.
A brick hotel stood where an empty field had once been.
Pike Freight now occupied an entire block near the rail depot.
Its office windows displayed gold lettering.
GIDEON PIKE — LIVESTOCK, TRANSPORT & FINANCE.
Leah saw Graham looking.
“He expanded three years ago.”
“With whose money?”
“That,” she said, “is becoming an interesting question.”
People recognized Graham.
Some openly stared.
Others whispered.
A man outside the barber shop stopped mid-shave conversation.
An elderly shopkeeper called Graham’s name.
Graham nodded without stopping.
They entered Red Bluff Mercantile.
The owner was not the man Graham remembered.
A younger woman stood behind the counter.
Leah approached.
“We need old purchase records.”
The woman blinked.
“How old?”
“Six years.”
She laughed.
Then saw Leah was serious.
“Why?”
“Ink.”
“That answer made it worse.”
Graham stepped forward.
“Who owns the store?”
“My father.”
“Name?”
“Samuel Trent.”
From the back room, a voice called, “Who wants me?”
Samuel Trent emerged wiping his hands.
He saw Graham.
His face changed.
“Thomas Alder’s boy.”
“Not much of a boy anymore.”
“No.”
Trent shook his hand.
“Heard you had a ranch in Wyoming.”
“I do.”
“Heard your mother passed.”
“Three weeks.”
“I’m sorry.”
Graham nodded.
“We need invoices from six years ago.”
“For what?”
“Writing ink.”
Trent stared.
Then glanced toward the front window.
“You expecting trouble?”
“Already found it.”
That answer seemed sufficient.
Trent locked the front door.
“Come back.”
The records were stored upstairs.
Dust covered the oldest boxes.
Leah searched by year.
Two hours later, she found it.
Pike Freight — twelve bottles blue-black ink.
Delivered May 18.
The forged cattle authorization had been dated May 3.
Graham felt the pieces shift.
Trent read the invoice.
“Why does this matter?”
Leah explained.
His expression became troubled.
“You’re accusing Pike?”
“We’re proving something,” Graham said.
“Careful.”
“Everybody keeps saying that.”
“There’s a reason.”
Trent lowered his voice.
“Pike owns notes on this store.”
Graham looked at him.
“He owns half the town’s debts.”
“More.”
“Then maybe everybody should stop being afraid at the same time.”
Trent gave a tired smile.
“Easy to say from Wyoming.”
Graham accepted the rebuke.
“You’ll testify the invoice is genuine?”
Trent looked toward the stairs.
“My daughter works here.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
Silas spoke.
“We do.”
Trent looked at him.
Recognition arrived.
“Silas Boone.”
“Been a while.”
“I believed you stole that money.”
“Most did.”
Trent lowered his eyes.
“Sorry.”
Silas shrugged.
“You weren’t family.”
Graham felt the words.
Trent inhaled.
“I’ll testify.”
His daughter appeared at the stairs.
“Papa?”
Trent looked at her.
Then at Graham.
“Somebody has to start.”
They left with a certified copy.
Outside, a black carriage waited across the road.
Gideon Pike sat inside.
He had aged well.
Silver now touched his temples.
His suit was dark and expensive.
He looked less like a cattle man than a banker who occasionally remembered cattle existed.
He stepped down.
“Graham Alder.”
Graham stopped.
“Pike.”
“I heard you came home.”
“I heard you’ve been waiting.”
Pike smiled.
“I’m sorry about Matilda.”
“No, you aren’t.”
Leah stiffened.
Pike looked at her.
“Miss Bennett.”
“Mr. Pike.”
“You caused inconvenience when you left my company.”
“I worked there six weeks.”
“Exactly.”
His gaze returned to Graham.
“Your mother was confused toward the end.”
“She seemed organized enough to hide records from you.”
The smile disappeared for a fraction of a second.
Then returned.
“Grief can make people suspicious.”
Graham stepped closer.
“So can fraud.”
Silas touched Graham’s elbow.
Not restraint.
Warning.
Pike noticed.
“How good to see you, Boone.”
Silas said nothing.
“I wondered where you disappeared.”
“Wyoming.”
“So I heard.”
Pike looked at Graham.
“You built something impressive.”
“I did.”
“Then why involve yourself here?”
“Because you nailed a notice to my house.”
Pike chuckled.
“Your house?”
“My name is on the deed.”
“Your father’s signature is on the mortgage.”
“Is it?”
Something changed in Pike’s eyes.
Small.
But Leah saw it too.
Graham knew because her breathing changed.
Pike straightened his cuffs.
“The court will decide.”
“Yes.”
“I hope you’re prepared for disappointment.”
“I’ve had practice.”
Pike glanced at the mercantile.
“What were you buying?”
“Ink.”
For the first time, Gideon Pike truly lost control of his expression.
Only for one second.
But one second was enough.
Leah smiled.
“Blue-black,” she added.
Pike looked at her.
“You should have stayed in Wyoming, Alder.”
Graham’s voice remained calm.
“You should have left my family alone.”
Pike stepped into the carriage.
Before the driver moved, he looked back.
“Ask Silas whether your father trusted him as much as you think.”
Then the carriage rolled away.
Graham turned slowly.
Silas’s face had gone pale.
“What did he mean?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing.”
“Pike talks.”
“Silas.”
The older man looked toward the street.
“There’s something Thomas asked me to do before he died.”
Graham waited.
“I never told Matilda.”
“What?”
Silas rubbed his jaw.
“He asked me to take you away from Colorado.”
Graham stared.
“What?”
“Your father knew Pike would come after something.”
“What something?”
“He never said.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Thomas made me promise.”
“My father told you to take me away?”
“He told me if anything happened to him, I was to help you leave.”
Graham felt suddenly unsteady.
“Why?”
Silas shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Graham thought of the hidden partnership.
The stolen payment.
The false mortgage.
His father’s secrets.
Matilda’s silence.
And Gideon Pike’s confidence.
May you like
For six years, Graham had believed the worst thing that happened that morning was his mother forcing him to choose.
Now it seemed possible that someone else had been arranging his departure long before the argument ever began.
