Chapter 8 - What Jeb Russell Had Never Told Anyone
Charlene did not take all five children into a blizzard.
Caleb wanted to go.
She refused.
“You said we find him.”
“We do.”
“Then I'm coming.”
“You are staying.”
His expression darkened.
“You ain't my mother.”
“No.”
Charlene wrapped a scarf around her neck.
“But your father left me responsible.”
“He left me responsible too.”
“Then act responsibly.”
That struck.
Caleb stared.
Charlene softened.
“If we both go, who protects Ruth and the boys?”
His jaw worked.
“You.”
“I need to search.”
“Then me.”
“You know the property better?”
“Yes.”
She hated that he was right.
Charlene compromised.
They would search together only as far as the lower trail while Ruth stayed with the younger children.
If they found tracks leading farther, Caleb would return.
He objected.
Charlene did not bend.
Fifteen minutes later they entered the storm.
Wind erased footprints almost immediately.
Jeb's horse had returned from the west trail.
They followed broken branches.
At the creek crossing, Caleb found blood.
“Here.”
Charlene knelt.
A few dark drops.
Not much.
They moved onward.
Snow reached Charlene's calves.
Her lungs burned.
The mountain that had seemed beautiful days earlier became something else.
Indifferent.
Massive.
Unforgiving.
Caleb shouted.
“Papa!”
Wind swallowed the name.
Again.
“Papa!”
Nothing.
Half a mile from the cabin, Charlene found fabric snagged on a branch.
Brown wool.
Jeb's coat.
Caleb began moving faster.
Charlene caught him.
“Slow.”
“He's close.”
“And if you break your ankle, I have two people to rescue.”
He stopped.
They continued.
Then Charlene heard something.
A faint whistle.
Three notes.
Sarah's song.
Caleb heard it too.
“Papa!”
They climbed toward the sound.
Jeb lay beneath a leaning pine, partially sheltered by rock.
His left leg was trapped under a fallen branch.
Blood stained his forehead.
He was conscious.
Barely.
“Charlene?”
Relief almost knocked her over.
She dropped beside him.
“What happened?”
“Horse spooked.”
“Can you move?”
“Leg's pinned.”
Caleb began pulling the branch.
Jeb grabbed him.
“Don't.”
“Papa—”
“Could roll.”
Charlene examined it.
The pine limb was heavy but not impossible.
“We need leverage.”
Jeb looked surprised.
Charlene gestured toward Caleb.
“Fetch the fence pole we passed.”
Caleb ran.
Jeb stared at her.
“What?”
“You've been here two weeks.”
“Three.”
“You counting?”
“Yes.”
He smiled weakly.
Charlene touched his face.
“You're bleeding.”
“Scratch.”
“You frightened us.”
“Sorry.”
Her hand remained against his cheek.
Jeb's eyes closed briefly.
“Charlene.”
“Yes?”
“Didn't think you'd come.”
She pulled back.
“What?”
“Thought Caleb would.”
Anger cut through fear.
“You believed I would stay home?”
“You don't know these trails.”
“I know enough to follow your irresponsible horse.”
Despite pain, he laughed.
Caleb returned.
Together they freed Jeb.
His leg was badly bruised but not broken.
Getting him home took two hours.
By the time they reached the cabin, Charlene could barely feel her fingers.
Ruth burst through the door crying.
All five children surrounded Jeb.
Toby climbed onto his chest before anyone could stop him.
Jeb winced.
Charlene lifted Toby.
“Papa has to breathe.”
“Papa broke?”
“No.”
Jeb groaned.
“Near enough.”
They settled him beside the fire.
Charlene cleaned the cut on his forehead.
He watched her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're staring.”
“Thinking.”
“That has caused trouble before.”
Jeb smiled.
Then his expression became serious.
“You came.”
Charlene stopped.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The question hurt.
“Because you're my husband.”
Something changed in his eyes.
“No.”
“What?”
“That's why you had to.”
Jeb's voice lowered.
“Why did you want to?”
Charlene's hand stilled.
The children were nearby.
Nobody seemed to listen.
Everyone absolutely listened.
Charlene cleared her throat.
“You ask inconvenient questions.”
“So do you.”
She looked at him.
Because I care.
The words nearly emerged.
Fear stopped them.
Not fear of Jeb.
Fear of giving another person the power Nathaniel had once held.
Jeb saw the hesitation.
He nodded.
“Fair.”
That night, after the children slept, Charlene remained beside him.
“You never told me why you were delayed.”
Jeb frowned.
“In Helena?”
“Yes.”
He looked toward the fire.
“The lawyer found something.”
Charlene waited.
“The bank's claim might hold.”
Her stomach dropped.
“How?”
“My father borrowed against the east acreage.”
“You said your loan was paid.”
“Mine was.”
“But his?”
“Apparently not.”
Charlene stared.
“How much?”
“More than I have.”
“Why would Nathaniel suddenly pursue a forty-year-old debt?”
Jeb's expression sharpened.
“Because somebody wants the land.”
“Who?”
“Mining company.”
Charlene's pulse quickened.
“Gold?”
“Silver.”
“Is there silver?”
“Maybe.”
“And Nathaniel?”
“Bank gets commission if they transfer defaulted property.”
Understanding chilled her.
Nathaniel's visit had never been about protecting Charlene.
He needed the ridge.
She became collateral pressure.
“How long do we have?”
“Thirty days.”
Charlene looked toward the children.
“Before?”
“Eviction.”
Silence.
Jeb rubbed his face.
“I should never have brought you here.”
Charlene turned slowly.
“What?”
“You didn't sign up for this.”
“I married you.”
“You married a man with a house.”
“I married a man with five children.”
“A man who may lose their home.”
“Then we find another.”
His eyes flashed.
“You don't understand.”
“No?”
“This land is theirs.”
“Then fight for it.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
He looked at her.
Charlene's voice softened.
“But don't decide for me when I leave.”
Jeb stared.
She continued.
“Nathaniel did enough deciding for one lifetime.”
Something painful moved through Jeb's face.
“I wasn't—”
“I know.”
She sat beside him.
Their shoulders almost touched.
Jeb looked down at his hands.
“My father drank.”
Charlene blinked.
The statement seemed unrelated.
Then she realized it wasn't.
“He borrowed constantly,” Jeb continued. “Mama hid money. We lost cattle twice.”
He swallowed.
“When I was fifteen, he left.”
“Left?”
“Just rode off.”
“Did he return?”
“No.”
Jeb looked around the cabin.
“I spent twenty years fixing what he left.”
Charlene understood the stakes.
This was not merely land.
It was proof.
Proof that Jeb was not his father.
Proof that his children would never wake to discover everything gone.
“Jeb.”
“I promised Sarah.”
“What?”
“That the children would always have this.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Seems promises don't mean much.”
Charlene took his hand.
He looked at their fingers.
“A promise is not the same as control.”
His eyes lifted.
“You cannot promise nothing bad happens.”
She tightened her grip.
“You can promise you're still there when it does.”
Jeb stared at her.
Then he slowly turned his hand beneath hers and interlaced their fingers.
No passion.
No dramatic declaration.
Something quieter.
Stronger.
Charlene realized she was falling in love with him.
That realization frightened her more than the bank.
The following morning, a rider brought another letter.
Not from Nathaniel.
From Mrs. Whitcomb.
Charlene recognized the handwriting.
She tore it open.
Dear Charlene,
You owe me no money. I never signed the paper Nathaniel Reed showed you.
Charlene's blood went cold.
The letter continued.
There is something else you must know. Nathaniel has been asking questions about Jeb Russell's property for months—long before the day you married him.
Charlene looked toward Jeb.
Months.
Nathaniel had targeted Wolverine Ridge before Jeb ever proposed.
Which meant Charlene's appearance in the conflict was coincidence.
Or perhaps leverage Nathaniel had been delighted to discover.
The final line was worse.
Please be careful. Nathaniel has been telling people the Russell children are neglected and should be removed from the mountain.
Charlene read it twice.
Jeb saw her face.
“What?”
She handed him the letter.
By the time he finished, his hands were shaking.
“They're coming for the children.”
Charlene looked upstairs where five small voices argued over breakfast.
The fight for Wolverine Ridge had just changed.
May you like
It was no longer about land.
It was about family.
