Chapter 9 - The Man Who Wanted Bennett Farm
Edward Bennett arrived two days later.
He looked enough like Jacob to make May scream “Papa!” before stopping halfway across the yard.
The man's face changed.
Clara saw pain.
Real pain.
He knelt.
“No, sweetheart.”
May stood frozen.
Edward removed his hat.
“I'm Uncle Eddie.”
Eli came out of the barn.
His expression became fury.
“You're dead.”
Edward stood slowly.
“No.”
“Pa said you were.”
“He had reasons.”
“You left.”
“Yes.”
“You never wrote.”
“I did.”
“Liar.”
Edward's shoulders lowered.
“I deserved that.”
Clara stepped forward.
“You are Edward Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“I'm Clara Whitmore.”
He stared.
“The Boston lady.”
Apparently everyone knew that title.
“Yes.”
“Jacob wrote about you.”
“So I've been told.”
Edward looked toward the farmhouse.
“He really...?”
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes.
“When?”
“Nine days ago.”
Edward turned away.
Clara watched him struggle.
Eli did not soften.
“Why are you here?”
Edward reached into his coat.
“Because Harlan Voss sent me a telegram saying the farm was being sold.”
Clara's suspicion returned.
“You deal with Voss?”
“I did.”
“Regarding what?”
“My inheritance.”
Eli exploded.
“You don't own anything!”
“Eli.”
“No!”
Edward faced him.
“Your grandfather left this farm to Jacob and me.”
“Then why wasn't your name on it?”
“I signed my share to Jacob eleven years ago.”
Clara frowned.
“Then what did you sell Voss?”
Edward looked surprised.
“How do you know?”
“Jacob kept papers.”
Edward sighed.
“A mineral claim.”
“There are no mines here.”
“No.”
“Then?”
“I thought it was worthless.”
“What exactly did you sign?”
Edward pulled a folded copy from his pocket.
Clara read.
It was deliberately vague.
Rights related to “future transportation, mineral, access, and commercial claims arising from disputed Bennett family interests.”
She felt sick.
Voss had used Edward to create a potential challenge to Jacob's railroad rights.
“You sold this for how much?”
“Fifty dollars.”
Eli laughed bitterly.
“Pa was right.”
Edward looked at him.
“About what?”
“You're a fool.”
“Eli.”
“He is!”
Edward nodded.
“Yes.”
That stopped the boy.
“I was a drunk,” Edward said.
The younger children watched from the porch.
“I gambled. I borrowed. Jacob gave me chances until he ran out of them. I left because staying meant stealing from him again.”
Eli's anger faltered.
“Why'd he tell us you died?”
Edward looked toward the ground.
“Maybe it was easier.”
“No.”
“Maybe he wanted you to remember an uncle instead of a disappointment.”
Eli swallowed.
Edward faced Clara.
“I heard he was dead in Wichita.”
“Why didn't you come then?”
“I was working cattle south. Telegram reached me late.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn't.”
That answer surprised her.
He continued.
“But I can help.”
“With Voss?”
“With Wade.”
Clara became alert.
“You know something.”
“I know Charlie Wade didn't start this in Mercy Ridge.”
“Explain.”
Edward looked toward the children.
“Inside.”
They sat around Jacob's kitchen table.
Edward told a story that began twelve years earlier.
Charles Wade had operated land speculation schemes in three counties.
He bought distressed notes through intermediaries.
Inflated debts.
Forced auctions.
Then sold land after railroad or mining announcements increased values.
“Why wasn't he arrested?”
“Never signed anything himself.”
“Until Jacob.”
“Maybe.”
“What about Voss?”
“Voss is greedy. Wade is clever.”
Clara remembered Voss's warning.
Leave the well alone.
Maybe it had not been a threat.
“Did Voss kill Jacob?”
Edward looked startled.
“What?”
Clara explained.
The midnight visit.
Loose stones.
Jacob's ledger.
Edward shook his head.
“Harlan's many things. I don't think he's a killer.”
“You sound certain.”
“I've known him twenty years.”
“People surprise us.”
“Sure.”
Edward leaned forward.
“But Voss hates dirt.”
Clara blinked.
“What?”
“He won't even inspect cattle pens if it rained.”
Eli frowned.
“He was at the well.”
“Yes.”
“But maybe not inside it.”
Clara remembered Jacob wrote that Voss was “at” the well.
Not necessarily damaging it.
“Then who loosened the stones?”
Edward looked at the documents.
“Ask who stood to lose everything if Jacob exposed the scheme.”
“Wade.”
“Yes.”
The next morning, Sheriff Cole questioned Edward.
Then Harlan Voss.
To everyone's surprise, Voss agreed to speak.
He admitted meeting Jacob at the well.
“I went to buy the north acreage.”
“At midnight?” Clara asked.
“He told me not to come to the house. Didn't want his children hearing us argue.”
“What did you argue about?”
“Railroad.”
“And?”
“He accused Wade and me of fraud.”
“Was he right?”
Voss's jaw tightened.
“About Wade.”
Clara stared.
“You participated.”
“I purchased debts.”
“Inflated debts.”
“Sometimes.”
“Forged signatures?”
“No.”
“Did you know Wade did?”
“Not until Bennett showed me.”
“When?”
“That night.”
“Then why did you continue pursuing the farm?”
Voss looked embarrassed rather than guilty.
“Because greed doesn't disappear just because someone else is worse.”
Clara almost admired the admission.
Almost.
“Did you damage the well?”
“No.”
“Did you see anyone?”
Voss hesitated.
“Yes.”
Everyone leaned forward.
“Who?”
“Wade's hired man, Silas Pike.”
Warren Pike, the county child officer, looked up sharply.
“Silas is my cousin.”
Clara's heart dropped.
“Where is he?”
Warren's face changed.
“Left town the morning after Jacob died.”
Sheriff Cole stood.
“For where?”
“Oklahoma, I thought.”
Edward swore.
They now had a possible suspect.
But no confession.
No witness to the actual tampering.
Clara looked at Eli.
“Did you see Silas?”
The boy shook his head.
“Only Voss.”
Voss looked at him.
“I saw you too.”
Eli stiffened.
“Why didn't you say anything?”
“Because I was ashamed.”
“Of what?”
“Your father begged me to help expose Wade.”
“And you refused?”
Voss nodded.
“Next day, he died.”
Silence filled the room.
For the first time, Harlan Voss looked old.
Clara understood something.
Guilt had been driving him too.
Not guilt for killing Jacob.
Guilt for choosing money over warning a man who died hours later.
Judge Hollis delayed all foreclosure indefinitely.
The fraud investigation expanded.
For two weeks, Bennett Farm breathed.
Clara worked.
The children returned to school in shifts.
Eli went every day.
He hated that Clara insisted.
He secretly loved it.
Edward repaired fences and slept in the barn because Eli refused to let him inside.
Slowly, resentment shifted.
One morning Clara saw Eli hand Edward coffee.
Neither spoke.
It was enough.
Then the county mail arrived.
A letter addressed to Clara.
From Boston.
Mrs. O'Leary.
The sewing shop owner.
Clara opened it.
Dear Clara,
Your room is held until March 1, as promised.
I have also received an offer from Whitmore & Chase regarding Henry's old family estate matter.
Their attorney says you may be entitled to a settlement from the property Henry's brother sold without your consent.
The amount could be substantial.
You must appear in Boston personally within twenty days or waive your claim.
Clara sat slowly.
Substantial.
Enough to save Bennett Farm permanently?
Perhaps.
But Boston was fifteen hundred miles away.
The round trip would take weeks.
Her temporary guardianship hearing was also scheduled within twenty days.
If she left, the court might interpret it as abandonment.
If she stayed, she could lose money that might secure the children's future.
Eli entered.
“What?”
She handed him the letter.
He read it.
Then looked at her.
“You have to go.”
Clara's heart tightened.
“I don't want to.”
“You said adults do hard things.”
“Yes.”
“So go.”
“And leave you?”
“We're not five.”
May appeared.
“I am.”
Eli sighed.
“Some of us aren't five.”
Clara laughed despite herself.
Then Eli became serious.
“Go get the money.”
“What if the judge—”
“We'll tell him.”
“What if something happens?”
“We'll handle it.”
Clara stared at the fourteen-year-old who had finally started acting fourteen.
“That's exactly what worries me.”
But the following day, Judge Hollis told her the same thing.
“If the Boston claim could provide financial stability, go.”
“My guardianship hearing?”
“I can postpone ten days.”
“What about the children?”
“Edward Bennett is blood kin.”
Clara's stomach tightened.
Eli's too.
Edward, standing nearby, said quietly, “I'll protect them.”
Clara looked at him.
“From Voss?”
“From everybody.”
Eli rolled his eyes.
But he did not object.
Three days later, Clara stood once again at Mercy Ridge station.
This time ten children surrounded her.
May held two fingers of her glove.
Just as she had on the first day.
“Come back,” May whispered.
Clara crouched.
“I will.”
“Promise?”
The word terrified Clara.
Promises had become dangerous.
But some promises had to be made anyway.
“I promise.”
The train arrived.
Clara boarded.
As it pulled away, ten children ran beside the platform.
Eli did not.
He stood still.
Watching.
Clara pressed her hand to the glass.
So did he.
Only after Mercy Ridge disappeared did Clara allow herself to cry.
Because for the first time in her life, Boston no longer felt like home.
Home was behind her.
May you like
And she had twenty days to make sure she did not lose it.
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