“Of Crowe.”
Silas reached into a drawer.
He removed an envelope.
It was old.
The edges were burned.
“This was your mother's.”
Abigail took it.
Her name was written across the front.
She stared.
“Why didn't you give it to me?”
“Because I didn't know whether you were ready.”
“You don't get to decide that.”
“No.”
He lowered his eyes.
“I know.”
Abigail opened the letter.
The first line broke her heart.
My dearest Abigail,
If you are reading this, then I failed to keep you away from the people who destroyed our family.
She stopped.
Tears blurred the page.
She continued.
Your father was not the man you believe him to be.
He was not evil.
But he was afraid.
Fear made him cooperate with men he should have fought.
Your father signed papers he did not understand.
Then, when he learned what they meant, he tried to undo them.
That was when they threatened you.
Abigail's hands trembled.
Her mother continued.
The land is yours.
Not because of money.
Not because of blood.
Because your grandfather hid the original deed where no one would think to look.
Trust no official document bearing the Crowe seal.
Trust the mountains.
Trust Silas Boone.
And if he is still alive when you read this, forgive him for the years he stayed away.
He was protecting you.
Abigail lowered the letter.
“Why did she trust you?”
Silas looked toward the door.
“Because I knew what Crowe's men were capable of.”
“What happened to her?”
Silas said nothing.
Abigail stared.
“What happened?”
“She was poisoned.”
The word landed softly.
Yet it shattered everything.
“Who?”
“We never proved it.”
“You said she was poisoned.”
“I found the doctor who treated her.”
“Who was he?”
“Dead.”
“Crowe?”
“Probably.”
Abigail looked at the letter again.
“She knew.”
“Yes.”
“And she knew she was going to die.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't she leave?”
“She couldn't.”
“Why?”
Silas hesitated.
“Because you were already being watched.”
Abigail closed her eyes.
For fifteen years she had believed her mother had simply died.
Now she understood that her mother's last days had been a prison.
Not a sickness.
A warning.
The next morning, Silas took Abigail deeper into the mountains.
They rode for hours.
The trail became narrow.
Eventually they reached a stone wall half-covered in moss.
Silas dismounted.
“Here.”
Abigail looked around.
“There is nothing.”
He pushed aside a branch.
A narrow opening appeared.
They entered.
Behind the rocks was a small cave.
Inside were crates.
Books.
Maps.
Old weapons.
And a wooden chest.
Abigail approached it.
“What is this?”
“Your grandfather's records.”
She opened it.
Ledgers.
Letters.
Survey maps.
Names.
Payments.
Dates.
She began reading.
The first page showed money paid to the sheriff.
The second showed payments to a judge.
The third listed mine workers who had disappeared.
Then she saw her father's name.
Gideon Hart.
Beside it was a date.
Three years before Abigail was born.
She read the note.
Refused cooperation.
Threatened to expose operation.
Abigail's hands shook.
“My father tried to stop them.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
Silas pointed to another entry.
Witness removed.
She stared.
“Removed?”
“Killed.”
Abigail closed the ledger.
“I don't want to read anymore.”
“You need to.”
“Why?”
“Because the people who did this are still alive.”
A voice came from behind them.
“Not all of them.”
Silas spun.
A man stood at the cave entrance.
Abigail recognized him.
Mayor Elias Crowe.
He was alone.
And smiling.
“Hello, Abigail.”
Silas moved in front of her.
Crowe raised his hands.
“I didn't come to fight.”
Silas laughed.
“You never do.”
Crowe ignored him.
“Abigail, your mother left you a great deal of confusion.”
“You killed her.”
Crowe's smile faded.
“That is what Boone told you?”
“She wrote it.”
“Dead women can be made to say anything.”