“And after that?”
“If you said yes again…”
His gaze finally dropped to her mouth.
“I’d kiss you.”
Josephine’s breath caught.
She almost said it.
Almost.
Then the image of her mother’s broken carriage flashed through her mind.
She stepped back.
“Not tonight.”
Harlan nodded immediately.
“All right.”
No disappointment.
No manipulation.
No teasing.
Josephine looked at him carefully.
“That easy?”
“Yes.”
Something inside her broke open.
Not desire.
Something deeper.
Relief.
She climbed onto the cot.
Harlan lay on the floor beside the door with his rifle.
Neither slept much.
At dawn, the storm weakened.
Josephine woke to the smell of coffee.
Harlan was outside checking the horses.
The canvas sack lay beside the stove.
Her mother’s wedding dress.
Josephine sat up.
For several minutes, she simply stared at it.
Then she crossed the room.
She removed the dress.
The fabric had partially dried.
She turned the hem over.
Nothing appeared unusual.
Then she remembered her mother sewing.
An old promise.
Josephine found Harlan’s small knife on the table.
She hesitated.
Then carefully cut three stitches.
Something stiff shifted inside.
Her heart began pounding.
Josephine opened the seam.
A folded oilskin packet slid into her palm.
She stopped breathing.
The door opened.
Harlan entered.
His eyes dropped to the packet.
Neither spoke.
Josephine sat at the table.
Her hands shook as she unfolded the oilskin.
Inside was a deed.
Another folded paper.
And a letter.
Her name was written across the front.
Josephine.
She recognized the handwriting instantly.
Her mother.
Josephine covered her mouth.
Harlan quietly turned toward the door.
“Stay.”
He stopped.
Josephine stared at the letter.
“I don’t want to read it alone.”
Harlan pulled out the opposite chair.
He sat.
Josephine unfolded the paper.
My dearest Josephine,
If you are reading this, then I failed to tell you the truth while I still had time.
Your grandfather did not leave the northern property to your father.
He left it to me, and after me, to you.
Josephine looked at Harlan.
“What northern property?”
He answered quietly.
“Black Pine Pass.”
She returned to the letter.
Everett Pike has offered money for the land three times.
I refused because the spring and timber rights make it worth far more than he says, but more importantly because the proposed railroad line will require passage through that valley.
Josephine’s fingers tightened.
She continued.
Your father owes Pike money.
More than he admits.
I discovered that he signed a transfer using my name.
It is fraudulent.
The original deed is enclosed with this letter.
So is my statement concerning the forgery.
If anything happens to me, take these to Judge Nathaniel Ross in Silver Junction.
Trust no one connected to Pike.
There is one exception.
Harlan Creek.
Josephine stopped.
Her eyes moved slowly toward the man sitting opposite her.
Harlan looked down.
Josephine resumed reading.
Years ago, when Harlan’s sister Ruth came to me bruised and frightened, I helped her disappear before her husband could drag her home.