PART 3 — THE UNCLE WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ᴅᴇᴀᴅ

Aurelia stared at the document on the table.

For several seconds, she couldn’t find her voice.

“My uncle is ᴅᴇᴀᴅ,” she finally whispered. “I attended his funeral. I saw his name carved into the family monument.”

Harlan removed his hat.

“Then someone went to considerable trouble to make you believe that.”

Julian stood beside the door, his expression unreadable.

“Start talking,” he said.

Harlan glanced toward the windows before lowering his voice.

“Your uncle, Nathaniel Phillips, owned a considerable amount of land in Colorado. Years ago, he discovered that the mountain behind this property contained something valuable. Something several powerful men wanted for themselves.”

“What did he discover?” Aurelia asked.

“An old silver deposit. But that isn’t the whole story.”

Harlan unfolded another sheet of paper.

“Your uncle also discovered that the original land survey had been altered. The richest section of the mountain had been transferred into the hands of a company that had no legal claim to it.”

Aurelia frowned.

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Everything.”

Harlan pointed to a handwritten name at the bottom of the document.

“Your father was the original owner of the property. When he died, the inheritance was supposed to pᴀss to you. Your uncle managed the estate until you came of age. But shortly before his disappearance, he discovered that the land records had been falsified.”

Aurelia felt the room tilt.

Her father had died when she was twelve. Her uncle had always told her that the family estate was nearly worthless.

He had sold the house.

He had dismissed the servants.

He had explained that the money left behind would barely cover her education.

And now a stranger was telling her that an entire mountain might belong to her.

“Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Because he believed someone was watching you.”

Julian stepped closer.

“Who?”

“Silas Vane,” Harlan answered. “A land developer with friends in Denver and influence in several mining companies. He believes Nathaniel left behind a map showing the original boundary lines and the location of the documents proving his ownership.”

Aurelia looked at the paper.

“And he thinks I have this map?”

“He thinks your uncle entrusted it to you before he disappeared.”

“I haven’t seen any map.”

Harlan nodded slowly.

“Perhaps you have. Perhaps you simply don’t recognize it.”

Julian’s eyes narrowed.

“Why bring her here?”

Harlan hesitated.

“Because Nathaniel specifically requested that she be sent to Julian Boone’s cabin.”

Julian went still.

“You know my name?”

“I know more than you think.”

Harlan reached into his coat and produced a small envelope.

The paper was old, yellowed at the edges, and sealed with dark red wax.

Aurelia recognized the handwriting immediately.

Her uncle’s.

She reached for it with trembling fingers.

Inside was a single sentence.

If Aurelia has reached the mountain, then the truth has survived longer than I expected. Trust the man who lives beside the old pine ridge. He knows what happened to my brother’s land.

Aurelia looked up.

“Julian?”

The mountain man did not answer immediately.

Instead, he walked to the window and stared toward the distant ridge.

“My father worked for your family,” he finally said.

Aurelia blinked.

“What?”

“Years ago. He was a surveyor. He helped your father mark the boundaries of the property.”

Julian paused.

“When the land was stolen, my father tried to expose the fraud. A few weeks later, he disappeared. They found his horse, but never found him.”

Aurelia’s hand тιԍнтened around the letter.

“And you believe my uncle knew?”

“I believe he knew more than he told anyone.”

A long silence followed.

Then Julian turned toward her.

“There is something else.”

He walked to an old wooden chest beneath the window and lifted its lid.

Inside lay a faded pH๏τograph.

Aurelia picked it up.

Three men stood beside a surveyor’s table. One was her father. Another was a younger version of Nathaniel.

The third man was unmistakably Julian’s father.

But Aurelia barely noticed them.

Because standing behind the three men was a fourth figure.

A man with a narrow face and a distinctive scar across his chin.

Harlan leaned forward.

“Good Lord.”

Aurelia looked at him.

“Who is that?”

“Silas Vane.”

The room seemed to grow colder.

Julian took the pH๏τograph from her.

“He was there when my father disappeared.”

Aurelia’s voice was barely audible.

“Then he knows where the documents are.”

Before either man could answer, a sound came from outside.

Three sharp knocks against the cabin door.

Julian moved toward it, but Harlan raised a hand.

“Wait.”

He looked through the window.

A rider stood beyond the porch, his horse covered in snow.

The stranger held up a white envelope.

“Message for Miss Phillips!”

Aurelia recognized the handwriting on the outside.

Her uncle’s.

She rushed toward the door.

Julian caught her arm gently.

“Let me see it first.”

The rider placed the envelope on the porch and immediately turned his horse around.

Julian retrieved it.

Inside was a small brᴀss key and another note.

The map is not buried beneath the mountain.

It is hidden where your father taught you to read.

Aurelia read the sentence twice.

Then her face changed.

“My father’s library.”

Harlan frowned.

“But your family home was sold years ago.”

“No,” Aurelia whispered. “Not the library.”

She looked toward Julian.

“There’s a place in the mountains where my father taught me to read maps. A little stone shelter near the old pine ridge. He called it his outdoor library.”

Julian stared at the key.

Then he looked at the window.

“That’s only half a day’s ride from here.”

Aurelia tried to stand.

Her injured leg immediately reminded her that she wasn’t ready for a journey.

Julian stepped forward.

“You’re not going anywhere until that wound is better.”

“But my uncle—”

“Can wait one more day.”

His voice softened.

“You’ve spent your whole life being told what to do by people who wanted something from you. I’m not going to become another one.”

Aurelia looked at him.

For the first time, she understood that his strength wasn’t the reason she felt safe beside him.

It was the fact that he never confused protection with ownership.

She sat back down.

“All right,” she said. “One day.”

Julian nodded.

But before he could turn away, Harlan noticed something written on the back of the pH๏τograph.

A date.

And beneath it, four words that made his face go pale.

THE HEIR IS ALIVE.

He looked at Aurelia.

“Miss Phillips…”

“What is it?”

Harlan swallowed.

“Your uncle may not be the only person who survived that night.”

END OF PART 3