PART 3 — THE NAME ON THE MARRIAGE AGREEMENT

Silas stared at the document.

For a moment, the crowded town square seemed to disappear around him.

“Where did you get that?” he demanded.

Josiah folded the paper.

“From a gentleman who knows how to conduct business.”

“Elias is ᴅᴇᴀᴅ.”

“Apparently, not ᴅᴇᴀᴅ enough to sign an agreement.”

Abigail looked at Silas.

“Who is Elias Blackwood?”

Silas slowly put his hat back on.

“My younger brother.”

The crowd began whispering again.

Josiah smiled as if he had finally regained control of the situation.

“Your brother made a generous offer for Abigail’s hand. A far better offer than anything this town could provide.”

Abigail felt sick.

“My father arranged another marriage?”

“An agreement,” Josiah corrected. “A respectable arrangement.”

“You sold me twice?”

His expression hardened.

“Watch your tone, girl.”

Silas stepped between them.

“Don’t speak to her that way.”

Josiah raised his voice.

“You have no authority here, Blackwood!”

Mayor Caldwell approached, his face stern.

“Josiah, let me see that document.”

For the first time, Josiah hesitated.

Then he handed it over.

The mayor examined the paper carefully.

“This appears to be a contract for a marriage settlement,” he said. “But I don’t see Abigail’s signature.”

“She doesn’t need to sign,” Josiah replied. “Her father can arrange it.”

“Not without her consent,” the mayor said firmly.

A murmur of agreement spread through the crowd.

Abigail looked at the mayor with disbelief.

For years, she had ᴀssumed that every man in Ridgeville shared her father’s opinions.

Now, at least one of them was finally willing to challenge him.

But Silas was not looking at the mayor.

He was staring at the seal pressed into the bottom corner of the document.

A black eagle.

His expression became grim.

“Where is Elias?” he asked.

Josiah shrugged.

“He’ll arrive tomorrow.”

Silas took one step forward.

“Tell me where he is.”

“Why? Afraid to see your little brother again?”

Silas said nothing.

But Abigail noticed his hands had тιԍнтened into fists.

Later, when the crowd finally began to disperse, Silas escorted Abigail to the edge of the square.

He had returned the leather pouch to his coat and refused to let Josiah keep a single coin.

“I need to speak with you,” Abigail said.

Silas nodded.

They walked toward the old church, away from the curious eyes of the townspeople.

“Tell me about your brother.”

Silas looked toward the mountains.

“Elias and I were raised by our father in a small settlement north of here. We worked together, hunted together, and built a cabin with our own hands.”

“What happened?”

“He fell in love with a woman named Margaret.”

Abigail stopped walking.

“My mother?”

Silas nodded.

“She was the kindest person I ever knew. She helped our family when we had nothing. My brother wanted to marry her, but your father had already begun courting her.”

Abigail felt her chest тιԍнтen.

“My father?”

“Josiah was younger then. He had little money, but he wanted the land your mother’s family owned. Elias discovered that he had been asking questions about her inheritance.”

Silas paused.

“When Margaret chose Josiah, Elias left the valley. He believed she would be safer if he stayed away.”

Abigail shook her head.

“But Mama married Father. They had me.”

“Yes. And Elias never returned.”

“Then why does his name appear on this agreement?”

Silas looked at her.

“That is what frightens me.”

He told her that twelve years earlier, a fire had destroyed the small mining camp where Elias had been working. Several men had died, and Elias was listed among the missing.

Silas had searched for months.

He had never found a body.

Eventually, he accepted the report that his brother was gone.

“But if Elias is alive,” Abigail whispered, “why would he agree to marry me?”

Silas’s eyes darkened.

“I don’t know.”

They reached the churchyard.

Abigail sat on a wooden bench beneath a cottonwood tree.

“There’s something else,” she said. “My mother used to tell me stories about a man who lived in the mountains. She called him the guardian of the creek.”

Silas turned toward her.

“What did she say about him?”

“That he would come one day and return what belonged to our family.”

Silas looked away.

“Margaret knew more than she ever told me.”

Abigail opened the silver locket again.

A tiny key was hidden beneath the folded note.

She lifted it carefully.

“There’s something inside.”

Silas examined it.

“It’s an old storage key.”

“Do you recognize the number?”

He turned it over.

The number 17 had been engraved on the back.

Silas looked toward the town.

“There’s a storage building behind the old railway office. Your mother used to keep her papers there.”

Abigail stood.

“Then we should go.”

The railway storage building had been closed for years.

Its wooden doors were swollen from rain, and weeds grew between the floorboards.

Silas found the seventeenth locker near the back wall.

The key turned with a reluctant click.

Inside was a small wooden box.

Abigail lifted the lid.

There were several letters, a pH๏τograph, and a folded deed bearing the seal of the county land office.

She recognized her mother’s handwriting on the top envelope.

For Abigail, when she is old enough to understand.

Her hands trembled as she opened it.

My sweet girl,

If you are reading this, then I am no longer able to protect you myself.

Your father has spent years trying to gain control of the land beside Blackwood Creek. He believes the mineral rights beneath it will make him rich. But the land is yours, and I have arranged for the deed to be held until your twenty-second birthday.

Abigail stopped.

Her twenty-second birthday had been only two months away.

The letter continued.

There is one person who knows the entire truth. His name is Elias Blackwood. He did not abandon us. He was forced to leave after discovering what your father had done.

Abigail looked at Silas.

“He knew my mother.”

Silas nodded slowly.

She continued reading.

If Elias returns, listen carefully. But do not trust anyone who claims to speak for him.

The final sentence was written in darker ink.

Your father did not cause my illness, Abigail. But he knows why I was never allowed to see a doctor when I needed one.

Abigail’s eyes filled.

For years, she had believed her mother had simply grown sick and pᴀssed away.

Now she wondered how much of that story had been carefully constructed.

Silas gently took the letter.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Abigail wiped her eyes.

“I don’t want apologies. I want answers.”

He nodded.

“Then we’ll find them.”

Just then, footsteps sounded outside.

Silas closed the box and moved toward the doorway.

A young boy stood there, breathing hard.

“Mr. Blackwood?”

Silas recognized him as a stable boy from the outskirts of town.

“What is it?”

The boy looked nervously over his shoulder.

“A rider came to the ranch. He told me to give this to Miss Miller.”

He held out a small envelope.

Abigail opened it.

Inside was a single pH๏τograph.

It showed her mother standing beside a tall, dark-haired man.

On the back were four words:

YOUR MOTHER TRUSTED ME.

Beneath them was a date.

The date was three days after the town had buried Margaret Miller.

Abigail stared at the pH๏τograph.

“That can’t be possible.”

Silas examined the man’s face.

Then he whispered a name.

“Elias.”

Before Abigail could respond, the stable boy spoke again.

“He said to tell you he’ll be waiting at the old river crossing tonight.”

Silas immediately shook his head.

“No. We’re not going there.”

“Why not?” Abigail asked.

“Because that’s where Margaret was last seen before she became ill.”

Abigail looked down at the pH๏τograph.

Her mother had been alive three days after the funeral date.

Someone had lied about when she died.

Someone had hidden the truth.

And now the man in the pH๏τograph wanted to meet her.

Silas reached for his coat.

“Abigail, listen to me. Whatever happens tonight, you must stay close.”

She looked directly at him.

“I’ve spent my whole life being told what I cannot know. I’m done with that.”

Silas studied her determined expression.

Then he nodded.

“Very well. But we go together.”

They stepped out into the fading afternoon light.

Neither noticed the second rider waiting across the street.

He watched them leave, then hurried toward the Miller Emporium.

Inside, Josiah Miller was waiting behind his desk.

“Well?” he asked.

The rider placed a folded note on the table.

“She’s found the letters.”

Josiah closed his eyes.

“And the pH๏τograph?”

“She has it.”

For several seconds, the merchant said nothing.

Then he opened a drawer and removed a small revolver, placing it beside the account books.

“Then tonight,” he whispered, “we finish what should have ended twelve years ago.”

But what Abigail would discover at the old river crossing was not simply the truth about her mother. It was the reason Silas Blackwood had never dared to offer his hand to anyone before her.