His wife had died eleven years earlier.
His daughter had died with her.
Or at least that was what he had been told.
Since then, Elias had lived alone on Mercer Ridge.
The farm was failing.
His cattle had been disappearing.
His fences had been cut.
Someone had been poisoning the water troughs.
Three weeks earlier, a bank officer had informed him that unless he paid his overdue loan by spring, the property would be seized.
Elias had accepted the possibility.
There was little left worth fighting for.
Then five strangers appeared in his barn.
He looked at June.
“Now tell me why.”
She stared into the fire.
“Because we were told you were the only man left who could help us.”
“Who told you?”
“A man named Samuel Avery.”
Elias froze.
The name meant nothing.
Until June added:
“My father.”
Elias leaned back.
“And where is Samuel?”
“Dead.”
“How?”
June's fingers tightened around her bowl.
“He was murdered.”
The children stopped eating.
Elias noticed.
“By whom?”
June looked toward the windows.
“Men who don't want you to know what your land is worth.”
The room became silent.
Elias felt something cold settle inside him.
“My land isn't worth much.”
June looked directly at him.
“That is exactly what they want you to believe.”
The storm grew worse before dawn.
Snow struck the windows in hard bursts.
Elias moved the children into the spare room, though none of them slept immediately.
June remained in the kitchen.
She sat at the table with both hands around a cup of coffee.
Elias stood by the window.
“What does my land have to do with your father?”
“Everything.”
“Start at the beginning.”
June took a long breath.
“My father worked for the county survey office twenty-three years ago.”
Elias frowned.
“I remember.”
“He was dismissed.”
“I remember that too.”
“He wasn't dismissed for incompetence.”
“Then why?”
“Because he refused to change a map.”
Elias turned.
“What map?”
June reached into her coat.
She removed a folded sheet of paper.
The edges were worn.
She placed it on the table.
Elias unfolded it.
It was a survey map of Mercer Ridge.
He recognized the creek.
The northern pasture.
The old forest.
Then he noticed something strange.
A series of red markings beneath the land.
“What is this?”
“A geological survey.”
“I've never seen it.”
“My father kept it hidden.”
Elias studied the map.
“There are mineral deposits beneath the eastern ridge.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
June looked at him.
“Enough to make your farm worth millions.”
Elias laughed once.
It wasn't a happy sound.
“You expect me to believe someone has been trying to steal my farm because of a few rocks underground?”
“Not rocks.”
She leaned forward.
“Copper.”
Elias said nothing.
“Rare-grade copper. And traces of something even more valuable.”
“What?”
“Lithium-bearing ore.”
The word hung in the air.
Elias knew enough to understand.
For years, companies had been buying land across the county.
Farmers had received offers that seemed strangely generous.
Then those who refused had suffered accidents.
Barn fires.
Livestock poisoning.
Financial problems.
Broken equipment.
Elias had assumed each case was unrelated.
Now he wasn't so sure.
“Why didn't your father go to the authorities?”
“He did.”
“And?”
“They were already involved.”
Elias looked toward the door.
“Who?”
June swallowed.
“The Harrow Company.”
Elias knew the name.
Everyone did.
Harrow Mining had bought half the valley.
Its owner, Victor Harrow, was one of the wealthiest men in the state.
But there was another name Elias knew better.
Sheriff Daniel Crowe.
Crowe had visited Mercer Ridge several times during the past year.
Always friendly.
Always polite.
Always asking whether Elias had reconsidered selling.
Elias remembered the sheriff's last words.
You can't fight the future, Elias.
Perhaps the sheriff had been right.
Perhaps Elias simply hadn't understood what the future wanted.
June reached into her pocket again.
This time she removed a small brass key.
“My father told me to bring this to you.”
“What does it open?”
“I don't know.”
“You've had it this whole time?”
“Yes.”
“And you came here without knowing?”
“My father told me one thing.”
“What?”
June looked into his eyes.
“He said, ‘When you find Elias Mercer, give him the key before sunrise.’”
Elias stared at the brass key.
Then he heard something outside.
A horse.
Then another.
He extinguished the lamp.
June stood immediately.
“What is it?”
Elias went to the window.
Three lanterns were moving through the snow.
Someone was coming.
The riders stopped outside the farmhouse.
Elias counted four.
Maybe five.
He motioned for June to stay inside.
Then someone knocked.
Three times.
Slowly.
“Elias Mercer.”
The voice was familiar.
Sheriff Crowe.
Elias's jaw tightened.
He opened the door but kept the chain in place.
“Sheriff.”
Crowe smiled.
His beard was covered with snow.
“Awful night.”
“Seems that way.”
“We received a report.”
“About?”
“Five fugitives.”
Elias said nothing.
Crowe looked past him.
“Mind if I come inside?”
“Yes.”
The sheriff's smile disappeared.