PART 4 — THE MAN WHO BOUGHT FOUR SISTERS HAD A SECRET OF HIS OWN

The stranger standing at the edge of the crowd was enormous.

He wore a weather-beaten black coat, a wide-brimmed hat, and boots covered in dried mountain mud. A long scar ran from his left cheek toward his jaw, disappearing beneath a thick beard.

He looked like a man who had spent more time fighting winter than speaking to people.

His eyes moved from Della to her three sisters.

Then he spoke.

“I’ll take all four.”

Nobody moved.

Clement Griswold adjusted his spectacles.

“Sir, this is a public auction. You’ll need to make a proper offer.”

The stranger reached into his coat and placed a leather pouch on the table.

“Forty dollars.”

Griswold opened it.

The coins inside gleamed in the morning sunlight.

“Forty dollars,” he repeated. “Do I hear forty-five?”

“No.”

The stranger’s voice was so cold that nobody dared answer.

Griswold cleared his throat.

“Sold.”

The gavel struck the table.

Della felt Posy’s fingers тιԍнтen around hers.

She had imagined many endings to that morning.

None involved a scarred mountain man purchasing all four sisters without even asking their names.

The stranger stepped toward the platform.

“Come along.”

Della didn’t move.

“Where?”

He looked at her.

“My ranch.”

“Why?”

“Because I have four empty beds, a kitchen that hasn’t seen a decent meal in months, and more work than one man can manage.”

Della narrowed her eyes.

“And what do you expect in return?”

The man studied her for a moment.

“Nothing you don’t agree to.”

She almost laughed.

Men who said things like that were usually the ones who meant the opposite.

“What’s your name?”

“Silas Thorne.”

Della glanced at the sheriff.

Sheriff Voord was suddenly very interested in his boots.

“Are we free to leave?” she asked.

Griswold tapped his ledger.

“Your debt has been transferred. Mr. Thorne now holds the contract.”

Della’s stomach тιԍнтened.

“Then we’re not free.”

Silas turned toward Griswold.

“I bought the debt. Not the girls.”

The crowd went quiet.

He removed a folded document from his coat and placed it on the table.

“This is a receipt for the forty dollars. It states that the Crane sisters are not property, not servants, and not bound to my ranch beyond their own agreement.”

Griswold’s face darkened.

“That isn’t how these transactions work.”

“Then perhaps you should learn a different way of doing business.”

Silas looked at the sisters.

“You can come with me, or you can walk away. The choice is yours.”

Della studied him.

She didn’t trust him.

But she understood something important.

He had just given them a choice nobody else in that town had offered.

“Where is your ranch?” she asked.

“Black Pine Valley. Two days north.”

“And what happens when we get there?”

“You eat. You sleep. Tomorrow we discuss what comes next.”

Della looked at Blythe.

Her sister gave the smallest nod.

Wren still looked furious, but she was holding Posy’s hand.

Della finally answered.

“We’ll come.”

The journey began before noon.

Silas owned a sturdy wagon pulled by two dark horses. He placed the sisters’ small bundle of belongings beneath the seat and gave Posy a wool blanket.

He didn’t ask why they had so little.

He didn’t ask about their parents.

For the first hour, nobody spoke.

Then Posy peeked over the wagon seat.

“Are you a giant?”

Silas glanced down.

“No.”

“You’re bigger than the sheriff.”

“That’s unfortunate for the sheriff.”

Posy giggled.

It was the first genuine laugh Della had heard from her youngest sister in weeks.

Blythe watched Silas carefully.

“Do you have children?”

“No.”

“A wife?”

“No.”

“Then why do you have four empty beds?”

Silas тιԍнтened his grip on the reins.

“My sister used to live with me.”

Della looked up.

“Used to?”

“She died.”

The answer ended the conversation.

But something in his voice made Della wonder whether grief was the only reason he lived alone.

They reached Black Pine Valley just before sunset the following day.

Silas’s ranch stood between two mountains, surrounded by tall pines and open pasture.

It was larger than Della expected.

A long barn stood beside the main house. Beyond it were several outbuildings, a smokehouse, and a small garden enclosed by a wooden fence.

But the house itself looked strangely neglected.

One shutter hung crooked.

The porch needed repair.

The kitchen window had been boarded over.

Silas stopped the wagon.

“Home.”

Wren climbed down first.

“This is where you live?”

“Most days.”

“Do you always live like this?”

Silas glanced at the broken shutter.

“Usually worse.”

For the first time, Della nearly smiled.

Inside, the house was cold and dusty.

But there were four clean bedrooms upstairs.

Each had a bed, a small dresser, and a window overlooking the valley.

Posy ran into the smallest room.

“This one’s mine!”

Blythe followed her.

Wren remained downstairs.

Della stood near the fireplace, examining the kitchen.

There was flour, dried meat, potatoes, beans, and enough supplies to feed them for several weeks.

Silas placed a small sack on the table.

“That’s your money.”

Della looked inside.

Ten dollars.

“What’s this?”

“Your share.”

“You already paid forty dollars for us.”

“I paid forty dollars to settle a debt. That money belongs to you.”

Della looked at him suspiciously.

“Why are you doing this?”

Silas removed his hat.

For a moment, his expression changed.

“Because eleven years ago, I watched someone I loved lose everything to a man who used a debt ledger as a weapon.”

He walked toward the doorway.

“And I couldn’t help her.”

Before Della could ask who he meant, he added:

“Get some rest. Tomorrow, I’ll show you the property.”

That night, Della couldn’t sleep.

She heard the wind moving through the trees and the occasional creak of the old house.

Around midnight, she noticed a thin line of light beneath the kitchen door.

Silas was awake.

She quietly stepped downstairs.

He sat at the table with a small wooden box in front of him.

Inside were several pH๏τographs, a child’s ribbon, and a folded letter.

Della stopped.

Silas looked up.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“No.”

He closed the box.

“Neither could I.”

Della hesitated.

“Mr. Thorne?”

“Silas.”

“Why did you really buy our debt?”

He studied her for a long time.

Then he said something that made her blood run cold.

“Because your father’s name was Abe Crane.”

Della nodded slowly.

“Yes.”

Silas leaned back.

“I knew your father.”

Her breath caught.

“You knew him?”

“I worked with him at the old mill. Years ago.”

Della stepped closer.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I didn’t know whether you were his daughters until I saw your names in Griswold’s ledger.”

Silas opened the wooden box again.

He removed a pH๏τograph.

It showed three men standing outside a mill.

One was unmistakably Abe Crane.

The second was a younger Silas.

The third was a man Della recognized immediately.

Clement Griswold.

Della stared at the picture.

“Why was Griswold with my father?”

Silas turned the pH๏τograph over.

On the back, four words had been written in faded ink.

The mill belongs to us.

Then Silas looked at Della.

“Your father didn’t owe Griswold four hundred and sixty dollars.”

He paused.

“He was trying to recover something Griswold stole.”

Della felt the room tilt.

“What did he steal?”

Silas’s face hardened.

“The original deed to the Crane Mill.”

And suddenly Della understood.

The auction hadn’t been about collecting a debt.

It had been about making sure four sisters never discovered what their father had died protecting.