PART 2 — THE BLOOD DEED… AND THE SHADOW IN THE TIMBER!
PART 2 — THE BLOOD DEED… AND THE SHADOW IN THE TIMBER! 😱🔥
Samuel didn’t flinch.
The giant stepped forward, his mᴀssive frame shielding Eleanor entirely from the riders’ view. His voice rumbled low like distant thunder. “Turn those horses around, Grayson. You made your choice at the depot.”
Walter Grayson sneered, resting his hand casually on the pommel of his saddle. “That was before I realized who she was, Bear. She isn’t just some pathetic old spinster off a train. She’s the legal heir to the Blackwood Ridge claim.”
Eleanor peeked around Samuel’s broad shoulder, her heart pounding against her ribs. “What are you talking about?! My sister Clara died in a fire twenty years ago… didn’t she?”
“Is that the fairy tale you told yourself, old woman?” Grayson barked out a harsh laugh. “Clara didn’t burn. She ran off with the original land grant deed for half of Bear Valley—a deed your father signed over to both of you! I spent two decades hunting for that paper. When Clara pᴀssed away in Denver five years ago, her deathbed letter named you as the sole beneficiary.”
Grayson leaned forward, his eyes glinting with pure greed. “I only wrote to England to lure you here so I could trick you into signing the deed over through a marriage contract. But when I saw you—so frail, so meek—I figured you’d freeze or starve, and the land would fall to tax auction. I never thought this overgrown beast would tuck you away in the woods!”
He signaled the two men beside him, both leveling sawed-off sH๏τguns directly at the cabin porch.
“Hand over her luggage and the deed, Samuel,” Grayson warned, cocking his hammer. “Or we bury you both under that fresh timber.”
Samuel’s jaw set like iron. “Over my ᴅᴇᴀᴅ body.”
With terrifying speed for a man his size, Samuel reached behind the porch post and seized his double-barreled hunting rifle. The clearing erupted into chaos.
BANG!
A sH๏τgun blast tore into the cabin doorframe, showering Eleanor in splinters. Samuel fired back, his sH๏τ blowing the rifle clean out of the first gunman’s grip and sending his horse into a wild frenzy. The rider was violently thrown into the dirt, while the second hireling panicked, wheeling his stallion around and fleeing into the pines.
Grayson cursed savagely. Seeing his men scatter, he wheeled his black mare around, spat toward the porch, and dug his spurs deep into the beast’s flanks.
“This isn’t over, Bear!” Grayson roared over his shoulder as hooves thundered away. “The circuit judge arrives tomorrow with my eviction writ! You can’t fight the law!”
When the dust settled, Eleanor collapsed onto the wooden steps, shaking uncontrollably. “Samuel… is it true? Did Clara really survive all those years?”
Samuel gently lowered his rifle and turned to face her. Only then did Eleanor notice the dark red stain blooming rapidly across his flannel shirt.
“Samuel! You’re bleeding!” she cried out.
“It’s just a graze,” he lied through clenched teeth, though his face had gone dangerously pale. He reached into his leather vest with trembling, blood-stained fingers and pulled out a small, tarnished brᴀss key tied to a leather cord.
“Clara didn’t leave the deed in your luggage, Eleanor,” Samuel whispered, his breath growing shallow as his knees gave way. “She knew Grayson’s men would search you. Before she died, she gave this to me. She told me the true papers are hidden deep inside the abandoned silver mine up the ridge… behind the iron gate.”
Eleanor gripped his enormous hand, tears spilling down her cheeks as Samuel slumped heavily against the log post.
“Why didn’t you cash the deed yourself?” she sobbed. “You could have owned the whole valley!”
“Because it wasn’t mine,” Samuel murmured, his vision blurring. “I loved your sister, Eleanor. I failed to protect her back then… but I will not fail you.”
Suddenly, a loud snap echoed from the ridge directly above them.
Eleanor snapped her head up.
High on the rocky ledge, silhouetted against the crimson sunset, stood a figure completely cloaked in dark wool, holding a long-range hunting rifle leveled straight down at the porch.
It wasn’t Walter Grayson.
Through the evening breeze, a chilling, mocking whisper carried down from the rocks:
“Thank you for leading me to the key, sister… I knew you were always too soft to keep a secret.”
Eleanor’s blood froze solid.
The voice belonged to a woman she had buried in her memories for twenty years.
TO BE CONTINUED… 😱🔥
