PART 2: THE COWBOY WHO WALKED INTO A ROOM FULL OF LIES

The heavy boots stopped at the doorway.

Every head in Mercer House turned.

A tall man stood beneath the porch awning, his black hat dripping rainwater onto the wooden floor. His broad shoulders nearly filled the doorway, and the worn leather of his coat carried the smell of wet grᴀss and cold wind.

Nell recognized him immediately.

Gideon Vale.

The stranger who had eaten quietly at her supper table the previous evening.

The man whose eyes had lingered on the figures in her ledger, not on the size of her dress.

Vernon Pike’s smile stiffened.

Bartholomew Rusk slowly removed his hat.

“Mr. Vale,” he said. “What a surprise.”

Gideon stepped inside.

“Is it?”

His voice was low enough that nobody needed to raise theirs to hear it.

Vernon moved forward. “We’re conducting private family business.”

“Then you won’t mind if I ask why your private business involves four thousand dollars, a marriage contract, and a woman who clearly doesn’t want to sign it.”

Nell’s heart stumbled.

Rusk’s eyes narrowed.

For one terrible second, she thought Gideon had come to expose her lie.

Instead, he looked directly at her.

“Miss Mercer.”

“Mr. Vale.”

“Is that fellow offering you marriage?”

“He is.”

“And do you want him?”

“No.”

“Then I believe the matter is simple.”

A murmur rippled through the dining room.

Rusk gave a small laugh. “You’re making yourself look foolish, Vale. Miss Mercer has no suitor. She told everyone so yesterday.”

“Actually,” Gideon replied, “she told everyone she already had a man.”

Nell stared at him.

He removed his gloves, placed them on the table, and turned toward Vernon.

“I believe she’s referring to me.”

The room fell silent.

Vernon’s jaw dropped.

Nell felt her cheeks burn.

Gideon looked at her again, and this time his expression carried a question.

Not an order.

Not a demand.

A question.

She understood what he was offering.

A way out.

But she also understood that accepting his help could drag him into a fight with men who had ruined better people than her.

“Mr. Vale,” she whispered, “you don’t have to do this.”

“I know.”

Two words.

Somehow, they steadied her more than any promise could have.

Nell lifted her chin.

“Yes,” she announced, her voice trembling only slightly. “Mr. Vale is the man I meant.”

Vernon looked as if somebody had struck him.

Rusk, however, did not look surprised.

That frightened Nell more than anything.

“How touching,” he said. “And how convenient.”

He approached Gideon with his hand extended.

“Perhaps we should congratulate the happy couple.”

Gideon did not take his hand.

“We aren’t announcing a wedding.”

“Of course not. A courtship, then?”

“Something like that.”

Rusk’s gaze shifted to Nell.

“Does Mr. Vale know what you’ve inherited?”

Nell went still.

Gideon noticed.

“She inherited her mother’s property,” he said. “Anything else is her business.”

“An admirable answer.” Rusk smiled thinly. “Though perhaps you should ask her about Mercer Spring before you start defending her.”

The room seemed to tilt.

Vernon abruptly reached for the folded document beside Nell’s ledger.

Gideon was quicker.

He caught the paper before Vernon could snatch it.

“What’s this?”

“Give that back!” Vernon snapped.

Gideon unfolded it.

Nell watched his eyes move across the page.

For the first time since he had entered, something changed in his expression.

A muscle тιԍнтened in his jaw.

“Where did you get this?”

“That paper is private!” Vernon protested.

Gideon turned it toward the window.

It bore the seal of a land office and the signatures of two witnesses. Beneath the heading was a claim that Eleanor Mercer had agreed to transfer all water rights connected to Mercer Spring to Bartholomew Rusk.

But the signature at the bottom was not hers.

Nell knew because she had signed enough documents in her life to recognize her own handwriting.

And because the signature belonged to a ᴅᴇᴀᴅ woman.

Her mother.

“This is forged,” Nell whispered.

Rusk adjusted his cuffs.

“Careful, Miss Mercer. Accusations are expensive.”

Gideon folded the document.

“Sometimes silence costs more.”

For a moment, nobody moved.

Then Rusk smiled again.

“Enjoy your little romance, Mr. Vale. Tomorrow, we’ll see how long it lasts.”

He put on his hat and walked toward the door.

At the threshold, he paused.

“Oh, and Miss Mercer?”

Nell looked up.

“Ask your uncle what happened to your mother’s original deed.”

Then he left.

The door slammed against the wind.

Vernon immediately lunged for the document in Gideon’s hand.

Gideon held it out of reach.

“Sit down, Pike.”

“I will not be ordered around in my own house!”

“Then stand. But answer one question.”

Vernon’s face had turned pale.

Gideon lowered his voice.

“Who helped Rusk forge the transfer?”

“I know nothing about any forgery!”

“Then you won’t mind if I take this to the sheriff.”

Vernon said nothing.

That silence told Nell more than any confession could.

Within minutes, the boarders had scattered, carrying rumors into the street.

Nell found herself alone with Gideon in the dining room.

She should have thanked him.

Instead, she said, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Saved you from a marriage you didn’t want?”

“Put yourself between Rusk and me.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Yes. He’s dangerous.”

“So am I, apparently.”

Despite herself, Nell almost laughed.

Then the laughter died.

“Why did you really help me?”

Gideon studied her.

“Because I know what Rusk is after.”

“The spring?”

“The spring is only part of it.”

He reached into his coat and produced a small, weathered envelope.

Inside was a survey map.

Nell spread it across the desk.

A blue line marked Mercer Spring, then followed a narrow channel beneath the hills toward a larger watercourse.

Red marks surrounded the land.

Her land.

Gideon pointed to a handwritten notation.

“Your mother’s property sits above an underground water pᴀssage that feeds three major cattle routes. Rusk has been buying neighboring parcels for months. With your spring, he can control the only dependable water source for nearly fifty miles.”

Nell looked at him.

“And my uncle is helping him?”

“I believe so.”

“Why?”

“Four thousand dollars would be my guess.”

She thought of Vernon’s new boots, his expensive whiskey, the money he claimed the boarding house owed him.

Then she remembered something else.

Her mother’s final words.

Never let them take the blue book, Nell.

“What blue book?” Gideon asked.

Nell shook her head.

“I don’t know. I thought she was feverish.”

Gideon rolled the map carefully.

“Then we need to find it.”

“Why?”

“Because if your mother knew something Rusk wanted hidden, that book might be the only thing standing between him and your land.”

Nell glanced toward the stairs.

Vernon was moving about upstairs.

And somewhere beneath the floorboards, the old house creaked.

“I’ll help you,” she said.

Gideon looked at her for a long moment.

“One condition.”

“What?”

“Tomorrow, when Rusk returns, you don’t let him frighten you into believing you’re worth less than your property.”

Nell swallowed.

“That’s two conditions.”

His mouth curved into the faintest smile.

“Then you’ve been keeping better accounts than I expected.”

For the first time in years, Nell felt something dangerously unfamiliar.

Hope.

But as Gideon turned toward the door, a sharp crash came from upstairs.

Then Vernon shouted.

“WHO’S BEEN IN MY ROOM?”

Nell rushed toward the staircase.

Gideon caught her wrist.

On the landing stood Vernon, holding an empty wooden box.

The box where Nell’s mother had kept her papers.

And in Vernon’s other hand was a small blue ribbon.

Nell recognized it.

It had been tied around the missing book.

Vernon stared at her.

“You,” he whispered.

Then he pointed toward the dark hallway behind her.

“Where did you hide it?”

Nell had never seen the man look afraid before.

And suddenly, she realized he wasn’t looking at her.

He was looking at someone standing behind her.

Someone neither of them had heard enter the house.

Someone wearing Bartholomew Rusk’s silver pocket watch.