PART 4 — THE LETTER THAT EXPOSED CHESTER HALLOWAY’S DARKEST SECRET

Caleb Stone read the agreement three times.

Each time, his expression grew colder.

The document was short, but its meaning was unmistakable. Chester Halloway had entered into an arrangement with Gideon Rusk, a wealthy land speculator who had been trying to acquire the northern portion of Caleb’s ranch.

And Beatrice Sullivan had been mentioned by name.

Not as a potential wife.

Not as a woman Chester regretted losing.

But as an obstacle that needed to be removed.

Caleb placed the paper on his desk.

“Tell me exactly how this came into your possession.”

“It was folded beneath Chester’s letter,” Beatrice answered. “I believe he intended to send it to someone else. Perhaps it was placed in the wrong envelope.”

“Or perhaps he wanted you to find it.”

Beatrice frowned.

“Why would he do that?”

“To frighten you. Or to make you believe he still has control over your decisions.”

She looked down at the document.

“I don’t understand why he suddenly wants me back. Four days ago, he couldn’t bear the thought of marrying me. Now he’s offering to reconsider.”

Caleb leaned against the desk.

“Because four days ago, he thought you were an ordinary woman who would leave town quietly. Now he knows you’ve discovered something that could cost him a great deal of money.”

Beatrice’s fingers тιԍнтened around the edge of the paper.

“Then he never wanted to marry me.”

“No.”

Caleb’s answer was gentle but firm.

“He wanted you where he could control what you knew.”

For a moment, Beatrice couldn’t speak.

She remembered arriving in Silver Creek with her small trunk and carefully folded dresses. She remembered Chester looking at her as though someone had delivered the wrong package.

She had spent four miserable days wondering what was wrong with her.

Now she understood that the man who had rejected her had never been capable of seeing her clearly.

And the man who had suddenly changed his mind wasn’t offering affection.

He was offering another kind of trap.

“I’m not going back,” she said.

Caleb nodded.

“I didn’t think you would.”

Then he picked up the agreement again.

“But we need to find out what Rusk and Halloway are planning.”

That afternoon, Beatrice returned to the ledgers.

She had begun to understand that the missing money was only one part of the scheme.

Someone had been recording payments to Hollis Freight and Supply, altering delivery dates, and creating false expenses.

The same names appeared repeatedly.

Nathaniel Price.

Gideon Rusk.

And a third name she hadn’t noticed before.

Edwin Mercer.

She copied the entry onto a separate sheet.

“Mr. Stone?”

Caleb appeared in the doorway.

“Yes?”

“Who is Edwin Mercer?”

Caleb stopped.

“Where did you see that name?”

“In the accounts. There’s a payment of two hundred dollars recorded under his name. It appears beside the western boundary purchase.”

Caleb took the page.

“Mercer was the man who handled my father’s estate.”

“Was?”

“He died last winter.”

Beatrice looked at the ledger again.

“Then why is someone paying him?”

Caleb examined the dates.

The payment had been entered three months after Mercer’s death.

He slowly closed the book.

“Someone is using a ᴅᴇᴀᴅ man’s name.”

Beatrice nodded.

“And if they’re using his name, perhaps they’re also using his old documents.”

Caleb looked at her.

“What are you thinking?”

“Your ranch was surveyed before your father died, wasn’t it?”

“Twenty years ago.”

“Do you still have the original survey?”

Caleb considered the question.

“My father kept most of his legal papers in a trunk. It’s probably still in the attic.”

“Then we should find it.”

He studied her for a moment.

“You’ve been here less than two days, Miss Sullivan, and you’ve already found more trouble than my ranch has seen in ten years.”

Beatrice almost smiled.

“I was hoping to be useful.”

“You’ve been more than useful.”

The attic was dusty, crowded, and filled with furniture that hadn’t been touched since Caleb’s father died.

They searched through old account books, letters, and property records.

Finally, Caleb found the trunk.

Inside were several folded maps and a thick envelope marked with his father’s name.

Beatrice spread the largest map across a wooden table.

It showed the entire Stone property, including the northern pasture that Chester had attempted to claim.

She compared it with the new survey.

Then she noticed something.

“Mr. Stone, look here.”

Caleb approached.

“What?”

“The creek.”

He leaned over the map.

The original survey showed that the northern boundary followed the natural curve of Willow Creek.

But the new survey had shifted the boundary several hundred yards east.

That meant Rusk and Halloway weren’t simply trying to steal a small pasture.

They were trying to acquire the land surrounding the creek.

“Why would they want this particular section?” Beatrice asked.

Caleb studied the map.

“Water.”

He traced the creek with one finger.

“Most of the ranches in this valley depend on this water during the dry months. Whoever owns the northern crossing controls access to the largest stretch of grazing land.”

“And if they own it?”

“They can charge neighboring ranchers for access. Or force them to sell.”

Beatrice looked at the map again.

“Then this isn’t only about your ranch.”

“No.”

Caleb’s voice became hard.

“It’s about the entire valley.”

That evening, Caleb rode into Silver Creek to speak with Sheriff Collins.

Beatrice stayed at the ranch with Mrs. Dwyer.

She had just finished copying the suspicious transactions when someone knocked on the office door.

It was Thomas, one of the younger ranch hands.

“Miss Sullivan?”

“Yes?”

“There’s a gentleman at the front gate asking for you.”

“Who?”

“He says his name is Chester Halloway.”

Beatrice felt her stomach тιԍнтen.

“Did he say why?”

“He said he has something important to discuss.”

She looked at the papers on her desk.

Then she carefully placed them inside a drawer.

“Tell him I’ll come outside.”

Thomas hesitated.

“Mr. Stone wouldn’t like you meeting him alone.”

“I won’t be alone. Mrs. Dwyer can stand on the porch.”

A few moments later, Beatrice stepped outside.

Chester stood beside his horse, dressed in an immaculate dark suit.

He looked almost exactly as he had on the day she arrived.

Except now there was something different in his expression.

He seemed nervous.

“Miss Sullivan.”

“Mr. Halloway.”

He glanced toward the house.

“I hoped we could speak privately.”

“Whatever you have to say can be said here.”

Chester forced a smile.

“I understand you’ve been working for Caleb Stone.”

“I have.”

“I must admit, I’m surprised.”

“Why?”

“It’s not a suitable position for a woman of your circumstances.”

Beatrice looked directly at him.

“My circumstances?”

He cleared his throat.

“I meant that a woman traveling alone should be careful about her reputation.”

She almost laughed.

Four days earlier, he had rejected her publicly.

Now he was pretending to worry about her reputation.

“Is that why you came? To offer advice?”

“No. I came to apologize.”

Beatrice said nothing.

Chester stepped closer.

“I made a mistake when you arrived. I was expecting someone different, and I allowed my disappointment to influence my judgment.”

“You certainly did.”

“I would like to correct that mistake.”

“How?”

He looked at her for a long moment.

“By marrying you.”

Beatrice felt strangely calm.

“No.”

His expression changed.

“You haven’t even considered it.”

“I considered marrying you for four days. You had your opportunity.”

“Beatrice, don’t be unreasonable.”

“I don’t believe refusing a man who already rejected me is unreasonable.”

His jaw тιԍнтened.

“You’re making this difficult.”

“No, Mr. Halloway. I’m simply making a decision.”

For a moment, he seemed unable to respond.

Then he lowered his voice.

“You should think carefully about what you’re doing. Caleb Stone isn’t the kind of man who keeps people around forever.”

Beatrice looked at him.

“Perhaps. But at least he pays people for their work and treats them with respect.”

Chester’s face darkened.

“You know nothing about him.”

“Perhaps I know more than you think.”

She turned toward the house.

“Good evening.”

But Chester wasn’t finished.

“Miss Sullivan!”

She stopped.

He looked at her with an expression she had never seen before.

Fear.

“You have no idea what you’re interfering with. Those papers you’re reading could ruin more than one man’s reputation.”

Beatrice slowly turned back.

“Then perhaps the truth should be read by more than one person.”

Chester mounted his horse and rode away.

When Caleb returned that night, he found Beatrice waiting in his office.

“He came here,” she told him.

“Who?”

“Chester.”

Caleb removed his hat.

“What did he want?”

“To marry me.”

Caleb became very still.

“And what did you tell him?”

“That I wasn’t interested.”

He nodded slowly.

“Good.”

Beatrice looked at him.

“Were you worried?”

“About Chester? Yes. About your decision? No.”

She smiled faintly.

Then she handed him a new sheet of paper.

“I found another entry.”

Caleb examined it.

It was a payment made to a man named Walter Briggs, dated two weeks before the forged boundary survey.

Beneath the payment was a handwritten note.

Original survey to be removed before the county hearing.

Caleb looked up.

“Where is the original survey?”

“In the trunk. But I believe someone has already tried to take it.”

“What makes you say that?”

Beatrice pointed toward the attic stairs.

“The trunk was locked when we found it. Now the lock is broken, and one of the papers is missing.”

Caleb immediately went upstairs.

When he returned, he was carrying an empty envelope.

“The original deed.”

Beatrice’s heart sank.

“It’s gone?”

Caleb nodded.

Then he noticed something on the floor.

A small piece of paper had been left beneath the trunk.

He picked it up.

It contained a message in Chester’s handwriting.

Bring the remaining documents to the Silver Creek courthouse tomorrow. Come alone, or the sheriff will arrest the woman who forged them.

Caleb looked at Beatrice.

“That’s impossible.”

But she wasn’t looking at the note anymore.

She was staring at the signature.

“Mr. Stone?”

“Yes?”

“Chester has made another mistake.”

She pointed to the bottom of the message.

“He used the same ink and handwriting as the letter he sent me.”

Caleb studied it.

Then he understood.

Chester had just left them another piece of evidence.

And this time, Beatrice intended to make certain the entire town saw it.