PART 3 — THE SECRET ABEL HAD CARRIED INTO RED DOG

I didn’t sleep much that night.

The broken window had been covered with a board, but every time the wind rattled the shutters, I thought about the note.

Leave Red Dog by Sunday.

It was Thursday.

Three days.

Three days to save the Copper Pot, prove the loan was false, and discover who wanted me gone.

At breakfast, Abel was already sitting at the counter with my husband’s old deed spread before him.

“Who sent you here?” I asked.

He folded the paper.

“A man named Samuel Grady.”

I recognized the name.

Grady owned several mining claims in the mountains and had recently purchased a large section of land outside Red Dog.

“What does he have to do with my cookhouse?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

Abel explained that he had been working as a carpenter at a remote mining camp when Grady approached him.

The man had offered him steady work repairing cabins and fences.

But there had been something unusual about the offer.

Grady had asked whether Abel knew anyone who could identify forged property documents.

Abel had refused to answer.

Then, a week later, Grady had mentioned the Copper Pot.

“He said a woman named Loretta Hayes was being cheated out of her property,” Abel explained. “He asked me to come to Red Dog and see what I could discover.”

I stared at him.

“So you didn’t come here by accident?”

“No.”

“And you knew about my trouble before you walked through that door?”

“Not all of it.”

I folded my arms.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know whether Grady was telling the truth. I wanted to see for myself.”

I looked toward the repaired window.

“You could have said something.”

“You’re right.”

His answer surprised me.

He didn’t argue or make excuses.

He simply accepted it.

“I’m sorry,” he added.

For a moment, I didn’t know what to say.

Then I pointed toward the kitchen.

“If you’re going to investigate my property, you can start by peeling potatoes. Nobody gets answers in this cookhouse without earning breakfast.”

A small smile crossed his face.

“Yes, ma’am.”

By noon, Walter Briggs arrived with two other miners.

He carried a folded document.

“Loretta, I thought you ought to see this.”

It was a copy of a land survey from twenty years earlier.

The Copper Pot sat on a valuable stretch of ground between the main road and the entrance to the old Silver Queen mine.

The mine had been closed for years, but a new company had recently discovered a promising vein of silver nearby.

I looked at Walter.

“Why are you showing me this?”

He hesitated.

“Because I heard Deke talking at the saloon. He said once he owned your building, the whole road would belong to the new mining company.”

Abel stepped closer.

“Did he mention who was paying him?”

Walter nodded.

“Samuel Grady.”

I looked at Abel.

His expression darkened.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Walter handed him another paper.

“There’s more. Deke has been paying men to sign statements claiming Loretta’s husband borrowed money from the mining company years ago.”

I stared at the document.

“My husband never borrowed money from anyone.”

“I know,” Walter said. “He helped me once when I was sick. Never asked for a cent.”

Abel examined the signatures.

“Some of these men don’t even live in Red Dog.”

Walter nodded.

“That’s what I thought.”

The pieces were beginning to fit together.

Someone wanted the Copper Pot.

They had forged a loan, involved the county, and tried to frighten me into leaving.

But why?

Abel tapped the survey.

“Because this building controls access to the old mine road. If the company owns this property, it can close the road and force every independent miner to pay for access.”

Walter’s face hardened.

“So it’s not just Loretta they’re trying to rob.”

“No,” Abel said. “It’s everyone.”

That afternoon, I went to the bank in Silver Creek.

Abel offered to accompany me, but I insisted on going inside alone.

The bank manager, Mr. Pritchard, examined my documents.

At first, he seemed impatient.

Then he reached the forged loan agreement.

His expression changed.

“Mrs. Hayes, this account was opened using your property as collateral.”

“I never signed it.”

He looked again at the signature.

“Who submitted this?”

“Deke Harlan, according to the county notice.”

Pritchard removed his spectacles.

“That’s serious.”

“Can you prove the loan is false?”

He studied the document for a long time.

“I can compare the signature with your original deed. But there is something else you should know.”

He opened a drawer and removed a second folder.

“Someone has already attempted to withdraw the money from this account.”

“Who?”

“Samuel Grady.”

I felt my stomach тιԍнтen.

“Did he succeed?”

“Not entirely. The bank held the transaction because the documents were incomplete.”

I leaned forward.

“Then stop it.”

Pritchard nodded.

“I will. But you’ll need to make a formal statement.”

He began writing.

Then he stopped.

“Mrs. Hayes, there’s another problem.”

“What now?”

“The original deed is missing from the county registry.”

I stared at him.

“But I brought you a copy.”

“Copies can be challenged. The original is what we need.”

I felt the room tilt.

Someone had stolen the most important document I owned.

When I returned to Red Dog, Abel was waiting outside the Copper Pot.

He could tell something was wrong.

“The original deed is gone,” I said.

He nodded slowly.

“I expected that.”

“You expected it?”

“I found something in the sheriff’s office.”

He handed me a folded sheet.

It was a list of property documents recently removed from the county registry.

My deed was at the top.

Below it was a second entry.

Original mining access agreement — Silver Queen Road.

Abel pointed to the signature at the bottom.

Sheriff McBride.

I stared at him.

“The sheriff is involved.”

“Looks that way.”

Then Abel reached into his coat and removed a small envelope.

“Grady sent this to the mining camp before I left.”

Inside was a letter.

It was addressed to Deke Harlan.

The woman must be gone by Sunday. Once the Copper Pot is secured, the road can be closed. Do not let anyone examine the old agreement.

At the bottom was Samuel Grady’s signature.

But there was something else.

A second name had been written beneath it.

Elias Ward.

Abel went completely still.

I looked up.

“Who is Elias Ward?”

His face had lost every trace of warmth.

“My brother.”

I waited.

Abel stared at the letter.

“He was supposed to be ᴅᴇᴀᴅ.”

Before I could ask another question, the door of the Copper Pot swung open.

Walter rushed inside.

“Loretta! Abel! You need to come outside!”

We followed him into the street.

A crowd had gathered near the sheriff’s office.

Two men were carrying a wooden sign toward the Copper Pot.

I recognized Deke among them.

He was laughing.

The sign read:

PROPERTY OF GRADY MINING COMPANY — CLOSING SUNDAY.

I stepped forward.

“You can’t put that there!”

Deke turned.

“Looks like we can.”

Abel moved beside me.

“Take it down.”

Deke smiled.

“Or what?”

Before Abel could answer, a horse came racing down the street.

Its rider jumped down and hurried toward us.

He was a thin young man carrying a leather dispatch case.

“Which one of you is Abel Ward?”

Abel stepped forward.

“That’s me.”

The rider handed him a sealed envelope.

“Message from Elias Ward.”

Abel opened it.

He read the first line.

Then his face changed completely.

I watched him fold the letter with shaking fingers.

“What does it say?” I asked.

He looked at me.

“My brother says Grady is only a middleman.”

“Then who is behind it?”

Abel slowly lifted his eyes toward the sheriff’s office.

“The man who owns the Silver Queen mine.”

I frowned.

“Who?”

Abel handed me the letter.

At the bottom, beneath the message, was a name I had heard whispered in Red Dog for years.

DANIEL HAYES.

My husband’s name.

I couldn’t speak.

My husband had died seven years earlier.

Yet someone was using his name to claim my property.

Then I noticed the final sentence in the letter.

Loretta, your husband didn’t die owing money. He died because he discovered who was stealing the mine.

I looked at Abel.

And for the first time, the stranger in the wolf-hide coat seemed almost as frightened as I was.

Because if that letter was true, my husband might have left behind a secret that could bring the entire town to its knees.

And somewhere beneath the Copper Pot, there was something he had hidden before his death.