“No.”
He nodded.
“You have your mother's temper.”
“You knew her.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She saved my life.”
The answer was simple.
Too simple.
Abigail waited.
Silas continued.
“I was seventeen when I first met Evelyn. I had been working at a mine outside Red Hollow. A shaft collapsed.”
“You were trapped?”
“For two days.”
“And my mother found you?”
“She and her brother.”
Abigail frowned.
“My mother had no brother.”
Silas looked at her.
“She did.”
The room seemed suddenly smaller.
“His name?”
“Thomas.”
Abigail shook her head.
“No.”
“He disappeared before you were born.”
“My mother would have told me.”
“She was trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
Silas looked toward the window.
“From the truth about your father.”
Abigail felt anger rise.
“You keep saying things and then refusing to explain them.”
“I know.”
“You expect me to trust you?”
“No.”
“Then what do you expect?”
Silas looked directly at her.
“I expect you to survive long enough to decide what you believe.”
That night Abigail could not sleep.
She lay awake listening to the wind.
At midnight, she heard horses.
Silas was already outside.
She looked through the window.
Three riders had stopped below the cabin.
One shouted.
“Boone!”
Silas did not answer.
Another voice called.
“We know she's here.”
Abigail's blood ran cold.
The men had followed them.
Silas stepped into the moonlight.
“You should turn around.”
A rifle cracked.
The bullet struck the tree beside him.
Abigail ducked.
Silas fired once.
A horse screamed.
The riders scattered.
The attack lasted less than a minute.
Then silence returned.
Silas came inside.
Abigail stared at him.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Who were they?”
“People who don't want you asking questions.”
“About my father?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
Silas looked at her.
“He refused to sign a piece of paper.”
“What paper?”
“A land transfer.”
Abigail frowned.
“My father owned a small farm.”
“He owned more than that.”
“What?”
“The northern valley.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“My father sold it.”
“He thought he did.”
Silas walked to the wall.
He pulled down an old map.
Abigail approached.
The map showed the mountains north of Red Hollow.
Several parcels had been marked in red.
At the center was her family's name.
HART.
Abigail stared.
“This is wrong.”
“Why?”
“My father sold the property.”
“To whom?”
“Elias Crowe's father.”
Silas nodded.
“And that's where the problem begins.”
He pointed to the bottom of the document.
“The signature isn't your father's.”
Abigail leaned closer.
The handwriting looked similar.
But not identical.
“My father could barely write.”
“Exactly.”
“Then who signed it?”
“That is what people have killed to keep hidden.”
Abigail stepped backward.
“How many?”
“Three that I know of.”
“Three people were killed over my father's land?”
“Maybe more.”
She stared at the map.
“What is under the valley?”
Silas hesitated.
“Silver.”
Abigail laughed.
It was a small, broken laugh.
“Of course.”
“What?”
“Everyone keeps saying my family was poor.”
Silas said nothing.
“And yet everyone wants our land.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the richest vein in the territory runs beneath it.”
Abigail sat.
“So that's why the debts.”
“Yes.”
“The auction.”
“Yes.”
“Crowe.”
“Yes.”
“And you?”
Silas looked at her.
“I am trying to stop them.”
“Why?”
“Because I made a promise to your mother.”
“What promise?”
“That if they ever came for you, I would get there first.”
Abigail looked at him.
“Why didn't you?”
His expression changed.
“I did.”
She frowned.
“What?”
“The day your mother died.”
Abigail's breath caught.
Silas continued.
“I arrived at your house three hours after she was buried.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“She died of fever.”
“She didn't.”
Abigail stood.
“You're lying.”
“I wish I were.”
“My father told me—”
“Your father was terrified.”
“Of what?”