PART 2 — FIVE RIDERS AND A SECRET WORTH KILLING FOR

“Send the girl outside, Boone!”

The shout came from beyond the cabin porch.

Simon stood beside the fireplace, his rifle lowered but ready. He didn’t answer immediately. His eyes moved toward Abigail, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching the blanket around her shoulders.

“Who are they?” she whispered.

Simon glanced toward the window.

“Men who believe money gives them the right to own people.”

The leader outside laughed.

“Don’t make this difficult. Sterling paid good money for her return. You can keep the reward and walk away.”

Abigail’s face drained of color.

“Josiah sent them.”

“Looks that way.”

“He’ll never stop looking for me.”

Simon turned toward her.

“Then he’ll have to keep looking.”

Another sH๏τ struck the wooden wall.

Abigail gasped.

Simon immediately moved between her and the window.

“Listen carefully. There’s a cellar beneath the pantry. You’ll find a wooden door under the flour sacks. Get inside and stay there until I come for you.”

“I won’t leave you.”

“This isn’t a discussion.”

Her eyes filled.

“Please don’t let them take me.”

Simon crouched until they were eye level.

“Abigail, look at me.”

She did.

“No man is taking you anywhere against your will. Not while I’m standing here.”

He waited until she nodded before helping her toward the pantry.

But as she lifted the flour sacks, something slipped from the pocket of her emerald cloak.

A small silver locket.

It struck the floor and opened.

Inside was a miniature portrait of an elderly man.

Simon stopped.

“Where did you get that?”

Abigail quickly picked it up.

“It belonged to my father.”

Simon stared at the portrait.

“What’s his name?”

“Edmund Prescott.”

For several seconds, Simon said nothing.

Then his expression changed.

“Your father was Edmund Prescott?”

“Yes. Why?”

Simon looked toward the cabin door.

“Because I knew him.”

Abigail stared at him.

“You knew my father?”

“Not well. But well enough to know he wasn’t the man Sterling claimed he was.”

Before she could ask another question, the leader outside shouted again.

“Last chance, Boone!”

Simon rose.

“Get downstairs.”

This time Abigail obeyed.

He closed the cellar door and returned to the main room.

Then he did something the riders hadn’t expected.

He opened the front door.

The bounty hunter stood beside a gray horse, his coat covered in snow. Two men waited behind him near the trees, while the remaining riders had positioned themselves along the narrow trail.

“Name’s Harlan Pike,” the stranger announced. “I’ve got a legal warrant.”

Simon remained on the porch.

“Let me see it.”

Pike produced a folded document.

Simon examined it beneath the porch lantern.

The paper carried the seal of the county office, but the signature looked hurried.

“Who issued this?”

“Sheriff’s office.”

“Which sheriff?”

Pike’s smile тιԍнтened.

“You ask too many questions.”

“That’s usually how a man avoids trouble.”

Pike leaned forward.

“Sterling wants his bride back. She’s promised to him, and her family has accepted his offer. You have no business interfering.”

Simon’s expression hardened.

“She isn’t property.”

“That’s not for you to decide.”

“No,” Simon replied. “It’s for her.”

Pike glanced toward the cabin.

“Where is she?”

“Not here.”

The bounty hunter laughed.

“You mountain men always think you’re clever.”

He stepped closer.

“Sterling told me something interesting about her father. Apparently, Edmund Prescott stole a considerable amount of money before he died. The girl knows where it’s hidden.”

Simon went still.

“What money?”

Pike’s smile widened.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Below the pantry, Abigail sat in the dark cellar.

She could hear muffled voices above her.

Her hands were trembling, but something about Pike’s words had caught her attention.

Her father had stolen money?

Impossible.

Edmund Prescott had spent his final months trying to save the family mine. He had sold his watch, his horses, and even the silver tea service that had belonged to Abigail’s mother.

He had never taken anything that wasn’t his.

Then she remembered something.

Three nights before his death, her father had given her the silver locket.

He had told her never to sell it.

Never to let Josiah see it.

And if anyone ever asked about the old mine records, she was to remember one sentence.

The truth is beneath the first stone.

At the time, she had thought he was speaking about the family grave.

Now she wondered whether he had meant something else.

Abigail opened the locket again.

The portrait shifted slightly inside its frame.

Something small and folded was tucked behind it.

Her breath caught.

She carefully removed the tiny piece of paper.

It contained only a few words, written in her father’s familiar handwriting.

Mill Creek. Old ᴀssay office. Trust Simon Boone.

Abigail stared at the message.

Why would her father have trusted Simon?

And why had he never told her?

Upstairs, Pike was losing patience.

“Bring her out!”

Simon stood motionless.

“I told you. She isn’t here.”

Pike reached for his coat.

Then a voice came from the trees.

“Mr. Pike?”

One of the riders had dismounted and was approaching the porch.

“There’s something you should see.”

He held up a second document.

Pike snatched it from him.

His expression changed as he read.

“What is this?”

The rider swallowed.

“An order from the territorial judge. Sterling’s claim over the Prescott estate has been challenged. The wedding agreement is under investigation.”

Simon watched Pike carefully.

“Looks like your employer has a problem.”

Pike crumpled the paper.

“An investigation doesn’t cancel a reward.”

“No,” Simon replied. “But it might explain why you’re so desperate to find that girl before the judge does.”

Pike’s eyes narrowed.

“You know nothing about this.”

“Then tell me.”

For the first time, Pike looked uncertain.

He turned toward the other riders.

“Get the horses ready. We’re leaving.”

Simon didn’t move.

“That’s it?”

Pike climbed into his saddle.

“Tell Sterling this isn’t finished.”

Then he looked directly at the cabin.

“And tell the girl her father wasn’t the man she thought he was.”

The five riders disappeared into the snow.

When Simon finally opened the cellar door, Abigail rushed up the steps.

“They said my father stole money.”

“Men like Pike say whatever helps them get paid.”

“But there’s something else.”

She showed him the tiny note from her locket.

Simon read it.

His face became completely still.

“Mill Creek,” he whispered.

“You know the place?”

“I do.”

“What’s the old ᴀssay office?”

Simon folded the note carefully.

“It’s where your father and I met for the last time.”

Abigail looked at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know you were his daughter until tonight.”

He walked toward the fireplace and stared into the flames.

“Your father came to my cabin shortly before he died. He said Sterling was trying to take more than the mine. He said he’d found evidence that could expose a group of men who had been stealing land and falsifying mining claims for years.”

Abigail’s fingers тιԍнтened around the locket.

“Did he give you anything?”

Simon nodded.

“He gave me a key.”

“Where is it?”

Simon reached beneath the collar of his shirt and pulled out a small iron key hanging on a leather cord.

Abigail stared at it.

“My father gave you that?”

“He told me to keep it until his daughter came looking for the truth.”

Simon placed the key in her palm.

For the first time, Abigail understood that her escape into the mountains might not have been an accident.

Her father had left a trail.

And somehow, it had led her to Simon Boone.

The next morning, they prepared to leave for Mill Creek.

Simon saddled his mule while Abigail packed bread, dried meat, and the papers from her father’s locket.

Just as she stepped outside, a rider appeared on the ridge.

This time, it was not Harlan Pike.

It was a young man carrying a white flag.

He dismounted and approached slowly.

“Mr. Boone?”

Simon nodded.

“My name is Daniel Prescott.”

Abigail nearly dropped her bag.

“Prescott?”

The young man looked at her.

“I believe you’re my cousin.”

He reached into his coat and produced a pH๏τograph.

It showed Abigail’s father standing beside another man and a little boy.

On the back, someone had written:

If Abigail ever finds Simon, send her to the old ᴀssay office. The boy knows where the original ledger is hidden.

Daniel looked toward the cabin.

“Miss Prescott, there’s something you need to know.”

“What?”

He swallowed.

“Your father didn’t die from an illness.”

Abigail felt the ground shift beneath her.

“What are you saying?”

Daniel lowered his voice.

“Someone made sure he would never testify.”

Simon stepped forward.

“Who?”

Daniel looked toward the mountain trail.

Then he gave the answer Abigail had feared most.

“Josiah Sterling.”

And according to Daniel, Sterling already knew they were heading for Mill Creek.

To be continued in Part 3…