PART 3 — WHAT WALTER WAS HIDING

The collapsed shed had left a jagged hole in the roof.

Snow poured through the opening, burying the broken boards and covering the barrels beneath a thick white blanket.

Nathan ordered the cowboys to keep their distance until the structure could be made safe.

Walter stood beside him, his face grim.

“Bad luck,” he said. “The roof’s been weak for years.”

Nathan glanced toward the beams.

“Clara warned me about the leak.”

Walter said nothing.

The ranch owner turned to Eli.

“Did you see anything before the roof came down?”

Eli hesitated.

Walter looked at him.

“Think carefully, boy.”

Eli’s shoulders stiffened.

“I saw the crate.”

“What crate?” Nathan asked.

Eli pointed toward the snow near the shed.

“The one Walter kicked away.”

Walter’s face hardened.

“It was nothing.”

Nathan walked toward the spot.

The crate was partly buried. He brushed away the snow and lifted it.

Inside lay several sheets of paper, a small ledger, and a brᴀss key.

Nathan opened the ledger.

His expression changed.

“Walter.”

The foreman stepped closer.

“What?”

Nathan turned a page.

“These are supply records.”

“Of course they are.”

“Some of the figures don’t match the ranch inventory.”

Walter’s voice grew sharp.

“You think I’m stealing from you?”

“I think I’m looking at records that don’t belong in a crate buried beneath my storage shed.”

Walter glanced at Clara.

“This is what happens when you let outsiders interfere.”

Clara felt every eye turn toward her.

“I didn’t put that crate there.”

“I never said you did.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Nathan closed the ledger.

“Walter, you’re relieved of your duties until I understand what these records mean.”

The foreman stared at him.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“You’re throwing away twenty-five years of service over a cook’s suspicions?”

Nathan’s voice was steady.

“I’m asking questions because the evidence demands it.”

Walter’s face turned pale beneath the winter redness.

Then he looked at Clara.

“You should be careful, Miss Bennett. People who dig into things they don’t understand tend to regret it.”

Nathan stepped between them.

“That’s enough.”

Walter turned and walked toward the bunkhouse.

Clara watched him go.

She had expected anger.

She had not expected fear.

That afternoon, Nathan brought the ledger into the main house.

Clara was sorting the remaining pantry supplies when he entered.

“Do you recognize this handwriting?”

She examined the page.

“No.”

Nathan laid another paper beside it.

“What about these figures?”

Clara studied the numbers.

“I recognize the dates. They’re the dates the meat shipments arrived.”

Nathan nodded.

“The ranch records show we received twelve barrels. The ledger says fourteen.”

“Could two have been sold?”

“Not according to the books.”

Clara looked at the brᴀss key.

“Where does that belong?”

“I don’t know.”

She returned to the pantry inventory.

Then she stopped.

“Mr. Cole, the storage shed isn’t the only place with a leak.”

Nathan turned.

“The old cellar?”

Clara nodded.

“I found damp boards near the cellar door when I first arrived. I thought it was water from the snow.”

Nathan’s expression grew thoughtful.

“That cellar hasn’t been used in years.”

“Then perhaps we should see why.”

They crossed the hallway and descended the narrow steps.

The cellar smelled of dust, damp wood, and old earth.

Nathan held a lantern while Clara examined the shelves.

Most were empty.

But in the far corner, beneath a torn canvas, stood a locked wooden cabinet.

Nathan tried the brᴀss key.

It turned.

Inside were several account books, a bundle of letters, and a small metal box.

Nathan lifted the top ledger.

His face grew still.

“Clara.”

She stepped closer.

The pages contained records of supplies purchased for Red Creek Ranch—meat, flour, salt, coffee, tools.

But the quanтιтies were far larger than the ranch’s actual deliveries.

Some entries had been crossed out.

Others bore Walter’s initials.

Nathan turned another page.

Then another.

His jaw тιԍнтened.

“He’s been charging me for supplies that never arrived.”

Clara looked at the figures.

“How long?”

Nathan stared at the dates.

“Almost three years.”

The room seemed to grow colder.

He had trusted Walter with the ranch’s accounts, its workers, and its winter supplies.

He had believed the man’s years of service meant he would never betray him.

Clara watched Nathan close the ledger.

“Do you think the spoiled meat was part of it?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“But if he bought less meat than he recorded…”

Nathan looked at her.

“Then he may have been hiding the difference.”

A sudden sound echoed from above.

Footsteps.

Both of them turned.

Someone was standing at the top of the cellar stairs.

Nathan lifted the lantern.

“Who’s there?”

No answer.

Then the footsteps retreated.

Nathan hurried up the stairs.

Clara followed.

They reached the kitchen just in time to see the back door swing shut.

Outside, a figure disappeared into the blizzard.

Nathan rushed to the window.

“Walter!”

But the wind swallowed his voice.

Clara looked down at the table.

The account books were still there.

The metal box was open.

And the bundle of letters had vanished.

By evening, the storm had worsened.

Nathan sent two men to check the bunkhouse, but Walter was gone.

His horse was missing from the stable.

So was the ranch’s old supply wagon.

The men searched the yard, but the blizzard had erased the tracks.

Clara stood beside the kitchen window, watching the snow.

“Where would he go?” she asked.

Nathan’s face was grim.

“Nearest town is impossible to reach. He could try the southern trail, but he’d be risking his life.”

“Unless he knows another way.”

Nathan looked at her.

“What do you mean?”

Clara hesitated.

“When I first arrived, I noticed an old trail behind the storage shed. It leads toward the timberline.”

Nathan’s expression changed.

“That trail hasn’t been used in years.”

“Perhaps Walter knows it.”

Nathan reached for his coat.

Clara stepped forward.

“You can’t go out there alone.”

“I’m not leaving him to destroy the evidence.”

“And I’m not letting you ride into a blizzard without knowing where you’re going.”

Nathan looked at her for a long moment.

Then he nodded.

“We’ll take Eli and two others.”

Clara returned to the kitchen and wrapped food for the riders.

As she tied the bundle, she noticed something beneath the table.

A folded piece of paper.

She picked it up.

The handwriting was unfamiliar.

But the message was clear.

“If you want to know why Walter kept the meat, ask Nathan about the winter his wife died.”

Clara’s fingers went cold.

She read the words again.

Then she looked toward the hallway.

Nathan had lost his wife years earlier.

He rarely spoke of her.

And now someone was suggesting that the ranch’s hidden accounts—and the spoiled meat—were connected to her death.

Clara hurried after Nathan.

He was already reaching for the door.

“Mr. Cole!”

He turned.

She held out the note.

Nathan read it once.

Then his face changed in a way Clara had never seen before.

Not anger.

Not grief.

Something closer to terror.

“Where did you find this?”

“Under the table.”

Nathan stared at the paper.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

Then he whispered, “My wife didn’t die of a fever.”

Clara felt her heart pound.

“What?”

Nathan lifted his eyes to hers.

“She died after eating food from this ranch.”

The wind battered the door.

Somewhere outside, a horse whinnied.

Nathan folded the note with trembling hands.

“And Walter was the one who prepared the supplies that winter.”

Clara stood motionless.

The spoiled meat might have been a terrible mistake.

The hidden accounts might have been theft.

But if Nathan’s wife had died because someone ignored a warning—

Then the secret inside Red Creek Ranch was far darker than either of them had imagined.

And Walter Briggs was riding through the storm with the only evidence that could prove it.

Part 4 will reveal what happened to Nathan’s wife—and why Walter is desperate to keep the truth buried.