PART 2 — THE SECRET BENEATH SADDLEBACK HILL
PART 2 — THE SECRET BENEATH SADDLEBACK HILL
Harriet did not sleep that night.
She sat beside the entrance to her unfinished shelter, listening to the steady dripping overhead. Every few minutes, she rose to check the wet patch spreading across the floor.
The water was not coming from the entrance.
It was seeping through the hillside itself.
If the ground became saturated, the roof could weaken. If the floor flooded, her sheep would have nowhere to go.
And the pregnant ewe, little Pearl, had not stopped coughing.
Harriet wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and walked to the pen.
“Easy, girl,” she whispered.
Pearl lifted her head.
The ewe had belonged to Harriet’s mother. She was gentle, unusually intelligent, and had followed Harriet everywhere since she was a lamb.
Harriet rested a hand against her neck.
“I won’t let you down.”
But for the first time, she wasn’t certain she could keep that promise.
At sunrise, Harriet rode down to the abandoned Merritt storage shed.
Her grandfather had kept his tools there before his death. Most had been sold or given away, but Harriet remembered a wooden chest tucked beneath the loft.
Inside, beneath several old account books, she found something wrapped in oilcloth.
A drawing.
The paper was brittle, and the ink had faded, but she recognized her grandfather’s handwriting immediately.
At the top were the words:
SADDLEBACK HILL — OLD UNDERGROUND SHELTER
Harriet spread the drawing across the workbench.
It showed the hill from the side, with two pᴀssages marked beneath the granite outcropping.
The first was labeled:
WESTERN ENTRY — ANIMAL SHELTER
The second was labeled:
LOWER PᴀssAGE — WATER CHANNEL
Harriet frowned.
She had never heard anyone mention a second pᴀssage.
A series of measurements ran along the bottom. There were also notes about drainage, stone foundations, and a natural opening farther down the slope.
Then she noticed something written in the margin.
The lower pᴀssage must remain clear. Water must always have somewhere to go.
Harriet read the sentence twice.
The water entering her shelter might not be coming from ordinary rainwater.
It could be following an old underground channel.
And if she found the second pᴀssage, she might discover how to redirect it.
By noon, Harriet had returned to Saddleback Hill.
She left Pearl and the other sheep in their pen, took a lantern, rope, and shovel, and entered the excavation.
The damp patch had grown overnight.
She followed the direction indicated on her grandfather’s drawing, measuring the distance against the marks on the wall.
After several yards, her shovel struck something solid.
Clang.
Harriet knelt and brushed away the loose earth.
A flat stone appeared beneath the soil.
It was not part of the natural rock formation. Someone had placed it there deliberately.
She cleared the edges and found a small iron ring.
With considerable effort, she moved the stone aside.
Beneath it was a narrow opening.
Cool air rose from the darkness.
Harriet lowered her lantern.
A pᴀssage extended beneath the hill, sloping gently downward.
She hesitated.
The opening was too narrow to enter comfortably, and she had no intention of risking a collapse by exploring alone.
Instead, she tied a lantern to a rope and lowered it carefully.
The light revealed stone walls.
And water.
A thin stream ran along the bottom of the pᴀssage, disappearing around a bend.
Harriet felt her heart quicken.
Her grandfather had not merely built a shelter.
He had designed an entire underground system.
The water channel might explain why the hillside stayed warmer and why the ground beneath the granite remained unusually dry in certain places.
But the discovery raised another question.
Why had nobody told her?
That afternoon, a visitor arrived.
It was Dr. Fletcher Colby.
He dismounted and looked toward the excavation.
“I was hoping you’d reconsider,” he said.
“About going home?”
“About building a shelter that might collapse.”
Harriet held up the drawing.
“I found something.”
Colby examined the old paper.
His expression changed when he saw the two pᴀssages.
“Where did you get this?”
“My grandfather.”
The veterinarian studied the markings carefully.
“Your grandfather built something beneath this hill?”
“I think he did.”
Colby looked toward the opening.
“May I see?”
Harriet nodded.
They entered the main shelter together. She showed him the wet patch, then the hidden opening.
Colby crouched beside it.
“Don’t go down there,” he warned. “Not until someone checks the structure.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
He looked impressed.
“That’s the first sensible thing I’ve heard you say in weeks.”
Harriet almost smiled.
Colby examined the water channel from the entrance, then stood.
“This is interesting. Your grandfather understood the hillside better than most people understand their own property.”
“Can the shelter still work?”
“Possibly. But we need to solve the drainage problem first. And you’ll need ventilation. Animals produce moisture, and poor air circulation can make respiratory problems worse.”
Harriet glanced toward the pen.
“Pearl has been coughing.”
“Then she needs examining. Don’t ᴀssume it’s only the weather.”
He walked outside and inspected the ground above the shelter.
After several minutes, he returned.
“There may be a natural drainage route on the eastern side. If the old channel is intact, we might be able to keep water away from your animal space.”
Harriet looked at the drawing.
“Then the second pᴀssage is the key.”
Colby nodded.
“But this is no longer a job for one young woman with a shovel.”
Harriet lowered her eyes.
“I don’t have money to hire anyone.”
“Perhaps you don’t need money.”
He glanced toward the valley.
“Perhaps you need someone to hear your idea before deciding it’s foolish.”
The following morning, Harriet went to Pine Ridge.
She had avoided the town since moving to Saddleback Hill. Every visit brought another comment about her father’s decision, her brother’s engagement, or the strange hole she was digging.
But she needed help.
At the general store, she found an elderly stonemason named Amos Bell.
He had known her grandfather and had worked on several of the Merritt buildings.
When Harriet showed him the drawing, he stared at it for a long time.
“Where did you find this?”
“In my grandfather’s chest.”
Amos removed his spectacles.
“Your grandfather asked me to help him with that lower pᴀssage years ago.”
Harriet leaned forward.
“You knew about it?”
“I helped lay the first stone supports. But we never finished the second entrance.”
“Why not?”
Amos looked uncomfortable.
“Your grandfather stopped the work after a disagreement with your father.”
“What kind of disagreement?”
“He wanted the hill to remain in the family. Your father wanted to sell part of the land to Aldis Dunore.”
Harriet was stunned.
“Dunore?”
Amos nodded.
“He was interested in the underground water. Your grandfather believed the channel was connected to a spring that fed several lower pastures.”
Harriet remembered the words written on the drawing.
Water must always have somewhere to go.
“Did my grandfather ever finish the pᴀssage?”
“I don’t know. But he told me something before he died.”
Amos leaned closer.
“He said the hill had a second entrance, hidden behind the old limestone shelf. And he said no one should ever block it.”
Harriet folded the drawing.
“Can you help me find it?”
The old stonemason looked at her for several seconds.
Then he nodded.
“Tomorrow morning.”
They returned to Saddleback Hill together.
Amos examined the drawing, walked around the granite outcropping, and studied the natural slope.
At last, he stopped near a cluster of thorn bushes.
“Here.”
Harriet moved the branches aside.
Behind them was a low stone wall, almost completely covered by earth and vegetation.
Amos brushed away the dirt.
A narrow archway appeared.
It was the second entrance.
Harriet stared at it.
The opening was partly blocked, but the stonework remained remarkably sound.
Amos tapped one of the stones.
“Your grandfather knew what he was doing.”
They cleared enough earth to see a short pᴀssage leading toward the lower water channel.
Then Amos noticed something strange.
One of the stones had been removed and replaced with a newer piece of timber.
He touched it.
“This wasn’t here when I worked on the hill.”
“Who put it there?”
Amos didn’t answer.
He looked toward the valley.
“Someone has been inside.”
That evening, Harriet returned to the main excavation with a lantern.
Amos had warned her not to explore the second pᴀssage until they could examine it properly.
She intended to obey.
But while checking the entrance, she noticed a small metal object caught between two stones.
She pulled it free.
It was a brᴀss ʙuттon.
Harriet recognized the design immediately.
It belonged to the uniform worn by the ranch hands at Dunore’s operation.
Her stomach тιԍнтened.
Aldis Dunore had visited her only days earlier.
He had laughed at her work.
He had warned her to stop.
And now she had found evidence that someone connected to his ranch had been inside the hill.
She placed the ʙuттon in her pocket.
Then she heard footsteps outside.
“Harriet?”
She turned.
Wendell stood at the entrance.
Her brother looked older than she remembered. His expensive coat was dusty, and his expression carried an unfamiliar uncertainty.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I came to talk.”
“You could have done that before Father sent me away.”
Wendell looked down.
“I know.”
“Then why now?”
He glanced toward the excavation.
“Because Aldis Dunore has been asking questions about this hill.”
Harriet folded her arms.
“What questions?”
“About the old tunnels. The underground water. Your grandfather’s drawings.”
“Why would he care?”
Wendell hesitated.
Then he said something that made Harriet’s heart sink.
“Because he already knows about the second pᴀssage.”
Harriet stared at him.
“How?”
Wendell removed his hat.
“Because Hortense gave him something from Father’s office.”
“What did she give him?”
“A deed.”
Harriet’s blood ran cold.
“My deed?”
“No. An older document. One that belonged to Grandfather.”
Wendell looked toward the lower entrance.
“He believes it proves the spring beneath Saddleback Hill belongs to him.”
Harriet felt the pieces beginning to fit together.
The ridicule.
The warnings.
The stranger’s interest in her excavation.
Dunore had not been laughing because he thought her plan was foolish.
He had been trying to make her abandon the hill before she discovered what lay beneath it.
Wendell reached into his coat and produced a folded paper.
“There’s something else you should know.”
Harriet took it.
It was a letter written by her father.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
Hortense,
I have changed my mind about the land. Harriet must keep Saddleback Hill. The spring is part of her mother’s inheritance, and I will not allow Dunore to take it.
The letter was dated three days before Edmund Merritt signed the document sending Harriet away.
She read it twice.
“Why didn’t Father tell me?”
Wendell’s face тιԍнтened.
“Because he was afraid.”
“Of Dunore?”
“And of Hortense.”
Harriet looked at her brother.
“Did you know?”
“I found the letter after Father died. Hortense told me it was worthless and that the land had already been transferred.”
“And you believed her?”
Wendell lowered his head.
“I wanted to believe her. I was getting married. I wanted the inheritance and the house to remain untouched.”
Harriet felt an old hurt rise inside her.
“You let me go.”
“I did.”
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Wendell looked toward the entrance.
“I can help you prove what happened. But you must understand something. Dunore isn’t just trying to buy the hill anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“He has already sent men to find the spring. And if they discover that your grandfather’s channel still carries water, they’ll try to take control of it before the county hearing.”
Harriet looked down at the drawing.
The old shelter.
The hidden pᴀssage.
The spring.
Suddenly, she understood why her grandfather had worked so hard to preserve the hill.
It was not merely a place where animals could survive winter.
It was the source of something the entire valley depended upon.
Outside, the wind began to rise.
Wendell glanced toward the sky.
“Harriet, you need to leave this place tonight.”
She shook her head.
“I’ve spent my whole life being told where I can and cannot live.”
“Listen to me. Dunore knows what you’re doing.”
Before she could answer, a loud crack echoed from beneath the hill.
Then another.
The ground near the second entrance shifted.
A stream of water burst through the lower pᴀssage, carrying loose earth and broken stones.
Amos, who had been inspecting the outer wall, shouted from outside.
“Harriet! Get away from the entrance!”
She rushed toward the doorway.
The old drainage channel was blocked.
Water was backing up beneath the hill.
And as the earth began to tremble, Harriet spotted something lodged between the stones.
A thick wooden beam.
Someone had deliberately jammed it across the pᴀssage.
This was no natural accident.
Someone had blocked the very channel her grandfather had designed to protect the shelter.
Harriet looked at the brᴀss ʙuттon in her pocket.
Then she looked at Wendell.
“Your men from Dunore,” she whispered. “They did this.”
Wendell’s face went pale.
From somewhere beyond the hill came the sound of a horse.
Then a familiar voice called through the wind.
“Miss Merritt!”
Aldis Dunore had returned.
And this time, he wasn’t laughing.
He was carrying a document.
“Come out of there, girl,” he shouted. “That land belongs to me now.”
Harriet looked at the water rising beneath the hill.
Then at the twenty-two sheep waiting in their pen.
She had spent weeks building a refuge for them.
Now someone was trying to destroy it before winter had even arrived.
And the most frightening part was that Dunore seemed certain he had already won.
