PART 3 — THE SECRET BENEATH THE MOUNTAIN

The stagecoach driver climbed the final steps to the porch.

His name was Walter Pike, and he had the unpleasant habit of smiling whenever someone else was in trouble.

“Evening, Boon.”

Jed didn’t return the greeting.

“What do you want?”

Walter held up the document.

“Thought you might want to see this before the sheriff comes looking for you.”

Jed took the paper and unfolded it.

His expression barely changed, but Martha noticed his fingers тιԍнтening around the edges.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Notice of foreclosure,” Walter answered before Jed could speak. “Seems your mountain isn’t yours anymore.”

Jed looked up sharply.

“That’s impossible.”

“Not according to this.”

Walter tapped the document.

“Your mortgage payments have been overdue for months. The bank has transferred the claim to a new owner. You have thirty days to vacate.”

Jed stared at the paper.

“I paid every installment.”

“Then perhaps you should have kept your receipts.”

Walter’s eyes moved toward Martha.

“Though I suppose you’ll be heading back to town soon. Another bride who won’t last a month.”

Martha stepped onto the porch.

“Funny thing about men who carry bad news,” she said. “They always seem pleased to deliver it.”

Walter gave a short laugh.

“Careful, Mrs. Boon. This isn’t a place for a woman who asks too many questions.”

“Then it’s fortunate I never learned to stop.”

Walter’s smile disappeared.

He turned to Jed.

“Thirty days. Don’t make this difficult.”

Then he mounted his horse and rode away.

Jed remained on the porch long after the sound of hoofbeats disappeared.

Martha approached him.

“Let me see the document.”

“No.”

“Mr. Boon—”

“I said no.”

He pushed past her and entered the cabin.

Martha followed.

He threw the paper onto the table.

“Happy now? You wanted to know why I brought you here? There it is. I have a cabin that’s falling apart, a mountain I may not own, and a life nobody should want.”

Martha picked up the notice.

She couldn’t read every legal phrase, but she recognized numbers.

And something was wrong.

“These dates don’t make sense.”

Jed looked at her.

“What?”

She pointed to the payment record.

“This says your last payment was due in March. But the receipt number here belongs to a transaction dated February.”

“That’s the bank’s business.”

“No. Look at the handwriting.”

She placed the notice beside the old advertisement.

“The same person wrote both.”

Jed leaned closer.

Martha was right.

The letters were shaped almost identically, particularly the unusual way the writer crossed the letter t.

Jed went still.

“Silas Crowe,” he whispered.

“Who is he?”

“The man who owns the bank.”

Martha looked at the document again.

“Then perhaps he knows something about these missing payments.”

Jed pulled out a chair.

For the first time since she had arrived, he looked genuinely uncertain.

“Silas has wanted this mountain for years. There are mineral deposits beneath the northern ridge. He offered to buy it from me twice.”

“And you refused?”

“My father left it to me. My wife and son are buried on this land. I won’t sell it.”

Martha lowered the paper.

“Then someone is trying to make you leave.”

Jed nodded.

“And they’ll keep trying.”

The next morning, Martha insisted they ride down to Bitter Creek.

Jed objected.

Her knee was still sore, and the trail was covered in fresh snow.

But Martha had made up her mind.

“If someone is stealing your land, hiding in this cabin won’t make them stop.”

Jed looked at her for a long moment.

“You’re a stubborn woman.”

“That’s what people say when they can’t persuade me.”

He almost smiled.

Almost.

They reached town shortly before noon.

The moment Martha entered the general store, conversations stopped.

Two women standing near the stove exchanged glances.

A man at the counter whispered something about the mountain bride.

Martha ignored them.

She had endured years of people judging her before she had even opened her mouth. Bitter Creek wasn’t going to be any different.

Jed went straight to the bank.

Martha followed.

Silas Crowe was waiting behind his desk.

He was a narrow man with silver hair, polished boots, and a gold watch chain that seemed designed to remind everyone how wealthy he was.

“Jedodiah,” he said pleasantly. “I wondered when you’d come.”

Jed placed the foreclosure notice on the desk.

“I want to see the payment records.”

Crowe glanced at it.

“There’s nothing to see.”

“I paid.”

“Then you should have proof.”

Martha stepped forward.

“Perhaps you could show us the ledger.”

Crowe’s eyes settled on her.

“And who might you be?”

“Martha Higgins.”

“Ah. The latest bride.”

He smiled without warmth.

“How long have you been up there? Ten days?”

“Long enough to recognize a man avoiding a simple question.”

The banker’s expression changed.

“Mind your manners, Mrs. Boon.”

“Mind your records, Mr. Crowe.”

A few people in the bank turned to look.

Jed put a hand on the desk.

“Show us the ledger.”

Crowe leaned back.

“Those records are private.”

“Then I’ll return with the sheriff.”

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Finally, Crowe opened a drawer and produced a thick book.

He turned several pages before stopping at Jed’s account.

Martha leaned over the desk.

There it was.

Three payments, all marked as received.

But the foreclosure notice claimed those payments had never been made.

Jed stared at the ledger.

“Who signed for them?”

Crowe quickly closed the book.

“An accounting error.”

“An error that would cost me my home?”

Crowe stood.

“Take your wife and leave.”

Martha didn’t move.

Instead, she noticed a small piece of paper sticking out from beneath the ledger.

It was an old receipt.

The name written across it wasn’t Jedodiah Boon.

It was Eleanor Boon.

Jed’s late wife.

Martha pointed.

“What’s that?”

Crowe snatched the paper away.

“Nothing concerning you.”

But Jed had seen it.

He went pale.

“Why does my wife’s name appear in your records?”

Crowe’s voice hardened.

“Your wife borrowed money.”

“She never told me that.”

“Perhaps she had her reasons.”

Jed looked as though the floor had shifted beneath him.

Martha understood that this was no longer simply about the mountain.

There was something in those records connected to Eleanor.

And Crowe was desperate to keep it hidden.

They left the bank without another word.

Outside, Jed walked several paces ahead of Martha.

“She wouldn’t have borrowed money without telling me,” he said.

“Perhaps she was protecting you.”

“From what?”

Martha had no answer.

When they reached the general store, an elderly woman came hurrying toward them.

She was small, dressed in a dark coat, and carried a basket covered with a cloth.

“Mr. Boon?”

Jed turned.

The woman’s eyes were watery.

“My name is Abigail Mercer. I knew Eleanor.”

His expression softened slightly.

“What about her?”

Abigail glanced around before lowering her voice.

“She came to see me three days before she died. She was frightened.”

Jed took a step closer.

“Why?”

“She said Silas Crowe had discovered something about your father’s land deed. Something that could cost him everything.”

Martha felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

“What did she discover?” she asked.

Abigail looked directly at her.

“A second deed. The original one. Your husband’s father had hidden it because the land was supposed to belong to the Boon family forever.”

Jed shook his head.

“Where is it?”

“I don’t know. Eleanor said she had hidden it somewhere safe.”

“Did she tell you where?”

Abigail hesitated.

Then she looked at Martha’s wooden trunk, which Jed had brought down to town.

“She mentioned a woman might come one day. A woman who wouldn’t be frightened by the mountain.”

Martha stared at her.

“She knew I was coming?”

“No,” Abigail whispered. “But she knew someone would have to come eventually.”

She reached into her basket and removed a small envelope.

On the front was written:

For the next woman who stays.

Martha’s hands trembled slightly as she opened it.

Inside was a short letter in delicate handwriting.

If you are reading this, then Jed has finally allowed someone into his home.

Please tell him the truth he has never been brave enough to search for.

The cabin was never meant to be his prison.

It was meant to protect what remains of his family.

At the bottom was a final line:

Look beneath the floorboard beside the cold fireplace. The key is where the ashes never settle.

Martha read the sentence twice.

Then she looked at Jed.

His face had gone completely white.

“That’s where Eleanor used to sit,” he whispered.

They returned to the mountain before sunset.

Jed barely spoke during the climb.

When they reached the cabin, Martha went straight to the fireplace.

She knelt and examined the floorboards.

One of them looked slightly different from the others. Its edge was darker, and a narrow gap ran along one side.

Jed brought a small iron tool.

Together, they lifted it.

Beneath the board was a little metal box.

Inside lay a brᴀss key, a folded deed, and a pH๏τograph.

Jed picked up the pH๏τograph first.

It showed his father standing beside Silas Crowe.

But there was another man in the picture.

A younger man wearing a deputy’s badge.

Jed turned the pH๏τograph over.

His father’s handwriting was on the back.

The three men who know the truth. One of them betrayed us.

Martha unfolded the deed.

The land description matched the northern ridge.

But the signature at the bottom made her blood run cold.

It belonged to Silas Crowe.

He hadn’t purchased the mountain.

He had signed an agreement promising never to claim it.

Jed read the document twice.

Then he looked at the pH๏τograph.

“That means Crowe has been lying for years.”

Martha nodded.

“And he knows we have proof now.”

A sudden sound came from outside.

A horse.

Then another.

Jed moved toward the window.

Three riders had stopped near the edge of the clearing.

The man in front dismounted.

It was Silas Crowe.

But he wasn’t alone.

Beside him stood the town sheriff.

And behind them was a third man carrying a lantern.

Jed recognized him immediately.

His face changed.

“That’s Deputy Harlan,” he whispered.

Martha looked at him.

“Who is he?”

Jed slowly lowered the pH๏τograph.

“He was the last man my father trusted.”

Outside, Crowe called toward the cabin.

“Jedodiah! We know what you’ve found. Open the door.”

Then the sheriff stepped forward.

And Martha heard the words that made her realize the danger was far greater than a stolen mountain.

“Jed Boon, you’re under arrest for the murder of your own father.”

To be continued in Part 4…