PART 2 — THE MOUNTAIN MAN’S SECRET

Gideon Mercer reached the bottom of his oak footlocker and pulled out something Josephine had never seen before.

A leather-bound document case.

The edges were worn, and a brᴀss clasp held it shut. Gideon opened it carefully, revealing folded papers, a silver pocket watch, and a pH๏τograph of a younger man standing beside a woman in a white dress.

Josephine stared at the pH๏τograph.

“Who is she?”

“My wife.”

The words came quietly.

Gideon had never spoken of his wife before. Not to the lumberjacks. Not to the men who had worked beside him for fifteen years. And certainly not to Josephine.

“She died in Jackson,” he continued. “Eleven years ago. The town called it an accident.”

He closed the document case.

“But I never believed them.”

Josephine looked at him, confused.

“What does that have to do with Amos?”

Gideon lifted his eyes.

“Everything.”

He took the silver pocket watch and slipped it into his coat. Then he pulled a folded paper from the case and placed it on the table.

Josephine leaned forward.

It was a legal document bearing the seal of the territorial court.

“What is that?”

“My logging claim.”

She read the first few lines, then looked up in disbelief.

“Gideon, this says you own nearly forty thousand acres.”

“More than that now.”

“But Amos Cutler owns half the town.”

Gideon gave a humorless smile.

“Then perhaps he should have been more careful about which half he tried to own.”

He turned toward the door.

“Get some sleep, Josie. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

“Gideon!”

He stopped.

“Please don’t hurt anyone because of me.”

For a moment, the mountain man stood motionless.

Then he turned back.

“I won’t ask you to trust me blindly,” he said. “But I need you to understand something. No man gets to decide that another human being belongs to him.”

He reached for his heavy coat.

“And tomorrow, Amos Cutler is going to learn that lesson.”

The sun had barely risen over the Tetons when Gideon saddled his black stallion.

Josephine stood at the cabin window, watching him тιԍнтen the saddle straps.

He had packed no food, no bedroll, and no extra clothing.

Only his rifle, his revolver, and the leather document case.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“To Jackson.”

“Alone?”

“Alone.”

She rushed outside, her boots sinking into the fresh snow.

“Gideon, you cannot fight the entire town!”

He looked down at her.

“I don’t intend to.”

He mounted the horse.

“I intend to speak to the one man who knows exactly what Amos Cutler is.”

Before Josephine could ask another question, Gideon was gone.

Jackson was already stirring when Gideon rode through the main street.

Conversations stopped.

Men stepped aside.

The giant mountain man rarely came down from the ridge, and when he did, people remembered.

Gideon tied his horse outside the territorial courthouse and walked through the front doors.

Marshall Higgins was sitting behind his desk, polishing a brᴀss badge.

He looked up.

“Mercer. What brings you down from your mountain?”

“Amos Cutler.”

The marshal’s expression тιԍнтened.

“He’s expecting me to accompany him tomorrow.”

“Not anymore.”

Higgins leaned back.

“Careful, Mercer. Cutler has a legal claim to his wife.”

Gideon placed a folded document on the desk.

“Then perhaps you should read this.”

The marshal unfolded it.

His face changed.

The document was a certified copy of Josephine’s original marriage record.

But beneath it lay another paper.

A sworn statement.

Signed by three witnesses.

Marshall Higgins slowly lowered his eyes.

“Where did you get this?”

“From a woman who spent eleven years waiting for someone to believe her.”

Higgins looked up sharply.

Gideon’s voice grew colder.

“My wife didn’t die in an accident, Higgins.”

The marshal’s hand trembled.

“Mercer—”

“Amos Cutler was there that night. And you helped him bury the truth.”

The room fell silent.

Outside, a wagon rolled past the courthouse.

Higgins stared at the papers as if they had suddenly become a live coal.

“You should leave this alone.”

Gideon leaned forward.

“I did. For eleven years.”

He straightened.

“Not anymore.”

Amos Cutler was having breakfast when Gideon entered the Cutler House.

The livestock broker sat at the head of a long mahogany table, wearing a spotless white shirt and a gold pocket watch.

He was a thickset man with neatly trimmed hair and the confident expression of someone who had never been told no.

When he saw Gideon, his smile vanished.

“Well, well. The mountain giant has come down to town.”

Gideon stood beside the table.

“Josephine is not coming back.”

Amos chuckled.

“She’s my wife.”

“She is a woman who has been running from you for a year.”

Amos set down his fork.

“Careful, Mercer. I have friends in the courthouse. Friends who can make your life very unpleasant.”

Gideon reached into his coat and placed a small envelope on the table.

Amos glanced at it.

“What is this?”

“Your wife’s statement. The names of the men who witnessed your abuse. And a copy of the marriage record you thought you could use to drag her back.”

Amos’s face darkened.

“You think a piece of paper can stop me?”

“No.”

Gideon leaned closer.

“But the truth can.”

Amos stood abruptly.

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

Gideon looked at him for a long moment.

Then he said something that made Amos go completely still.

“I know exactly who you are.”

He turned and walked out.

By noon, the entire town was whispering.

Amos Cutler had been seen shouting at the marshal.

The courthouse clerk had refused to process his peтιтion.

And Gideon Mercer had been asking questions about a woman who died eleven years earlier.

Josephine waited at the mountain cabin, unable to eat.

Every time the wind rattled the shutters, she thought she heard a horse.

When the afternoon light began to fade, the sound finally came.

Hooves.

A rider.

She rushed to the door.

Gideon appeared through the snow, his black horse steaming in the cold.

But he wasn’t alone.

A second horse followed behind him.

And its rider was a woman.

She wore a dark wool coat and a wide-brimmed hat. Her face was pale, and her eyes were fixed on Josephine.

Gideon dismounted.

“Josie,” he said quietly.

“This is Eleanor Mercer.”

Josephine stared at the woman.

The name struck her like a thunderclap.

“Your wife?”

Gideon shook his head.

“My sister.”

Eleanor stepped forward.

“I’ve been looking for you for eleven years.”

Josephine’s knees nearly gave way.

“Why?”

Eleanor reached into her coat and pulled out a folded letter.

“Because my brother was never supposed to find out what happened to his wife.”

She looked toward Gideon.

“And because Amos Cutler has been hiding something far worse than a stolen marriage.”

Gideon’s expression hardened.

“What is it?”

Eleanor opened the letter.

Her voice trembled as she read the first line.

If anything happens to me, tell Gideon that the child survived.

Josephine’s breath caught.

Gideon went completely still.

“What child?”

Eleanor looked at him through tears.

“Your daughter, Gideon.”

The mountain man staggered backward as if the words had struck him.

For eleven years, he had believed his wife had died without leaving him anything but grief.

Now, standing in the doorway of his cabin, he learned that somewhere in the world, a child might still be alive.

And Amos Cutler knew where she was.

To be continued in Part 3…