“Are you hurt?” I asked.
“Not mine.”
He locked the door.
Then he looked at the ledger.
“Your father stole that ledger.”
I felt my stomach drop.
“You said he wasn't a thief.”
“He wasn't.”
“Then why steal it?”
“Because Vane had altered the records.”
Caleb took the ledger.
“This contains names.”
“Whose?”
“Farmers. Ranchers. Widows. Families.”
He opened it.
Beside each name were numbers.
Payments.
Debts.
Land parcels.
Some names had been crossed out.
Caleb pointed to one.
“Your father found this.”
“What did he do?”
“He copied the original records.”
“Where are they?”
Caleb looked at the letter.
“The proof is where the water cannot reach it.”
He thought for a moment.
Then his eyes changed.
“Mercy Creek.”
I frowned.
“That's water.”
“Not the creek.”
He pointed toward the mountains.
“The old water tower.”
There was an abandoned railroad water tower north of town.
It had not been used in years.
If Daniel Mercer had hidden the original records somewhere the creek could not reach, he might have chosen the tower.
Caleb saddled his horse.
“We leave before sunrise.”
“Where?”
“To find the truth.”
That night, someone came to the cabin.
Not with a gun.
Not with threats.
With a knock.
Three slow knocks.
Caleb opened the door.
An old woman stood outside.
She was soaked.
Her name was Abigail Mercer.
She had been our father's aunt.
I had never met her.
She looked at me.
Then at June.
And began to cry.
“Daniel's girls.”
Caleb stepped aside.
Abigail entered.
She held something beneath her coat.
A small wooden box.
She placed it on the table.
“I should have come sooner.”
“What is it?” I asked.
She opened the box.
Inside was a photograph.
Our mother stood beside our father.
And between them were two tiny babies.
June and me.
But there was something else.
Written on the back were six words.
If I vanish, find Martha at Red Creek.
Martha was our mother.
She wasn't gone.
She was hiding.
And somewhere in the Wyoming Territory, she was waiting for us.
The Woman Who Had Not Vanished
We left before dawn.
Caleb rode ahead.
Abigail followed in a small wagon.
June and I sat beside her beneath a wool blanket.
I kept thinking about the photograph.
Our mother had not abandoned us.
She had hidden.
There was a difference.
But why?
What could have frightened her enough to leave her children?
The answer came halfway to Red Creek.
We stopped at an abandoned church.
Abigail built a small fire.
Caleb stood outside watching the road.
I approached him.
“Were you in love with my mother?”
He nearly dropped the coffee cup in his hand.
“What?”
“June thinks you were.”
“She does?”
“She said you look sad when people talk about her.”
Caleb stared into the fire.
“Your mother was my friend's wife.”
“That doesn't answer the question.”
He smiled faintly.
“You really are Daniel's daughter.”
“Was Papa your friend?”
“Yes.”
“Best friend?”
Caleb nodded.
“Then why didn't you save him?”
The smile vanished.
“I tried.”
“Was it your fault?”
He looked at me for a long time.
“Some days I think it was.”
I didn't know what to say.
He looked toward the mountains.
“Your father trusted me with something.”
“What?”
“Your lives.”
I remembered the pocket watch.
“That's why you came back.”
“Yes.”
“Because of Papa.”
“And because I failed him once.”
The journey continued.
We reached Red Creek by evening.
It wasn't much of a town.
Six houses.
A blacksmith.
A church.
A small general store.
And a cabin near the river.
Caleb stopped.
He dismounted.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Clara.”
“I'm going with you.”
He sighed.
Then he lifted me from the wagon.
June followed.
We approached the cabin.
Caleb knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again.
Still nothing.
He opened the door.
The cabin was empty.
But there was a fire in the stove.
Fresh bread on the table.
And a woman's shawl hanging beside the bed.
June whispered, “Mama.”
We searched the room.
Then I saw it.
A small wooden horse on the floor.
I knew it.
Papa had carved it for us.
There was a message beneath it.
Caleb.
If you have brought my daughters here, then you have done what Daniel asked.
I am alive.
But I cannot return yet.
Vane has men everywhere.
The original records are in the old water tower.
Daniel hid them there.
The key is in the pocket watch.
I grabbed the silver watch.
There was a tiny compartment I had never noticed.
Inside was a brass key.
Caleb read the note.
“Your mother knew everything.”
“Where is she?”
“She must have gone before we arrived.”
June began crying.
Caleb knelt beside her.
“We'll find her.”
“You promise?”
He looked at her.
“Yes.”
The next morning, we returned toward Mercy Creek.
But Silas Vane was waiting.
His men blocked the road.
There were six of them.
Sheriff Amos Bell stood in the center.
He held a warrant.
“Caleb Rourke.”
Caleb stopped.
“What's the charge?”
“Kidnapping.”
I felt cold.
Vane stepped forward.
“The children belong under county protection.”
Caleb laughed once.
“No.”
The sheriff frowned.
“Don't make this harder.”
“Where were you when these girls were sleeping behind your friend's saloon?”
Bell said nothing.
“Where were you when they were eating scraps?”
Still nothing.
Vane smiled.
“You're making accusations you can't prove.”
Caleb looked at him.
“So are you.”
The sheriff reached for his revolver.
Caleb moved faster.
His gun was already in his hand.
But he did not fire.
He simply pointed it at the ground.
“Move.”
Nobody moved.
Then Abigail stepped forward.
“I can prove who these girls belong to.”
Vane's expression changed.
Abigail pulled the photograph from her coat.