"He believed the mine was dangerous. Men became greedy. Workers fought. One man disappeared."
He paused.
"After that, he sealed it."
I looked down at the document.
"And your first wife knew?"
He nodded.
"Eventually."
"How?"
"Her father found the old records."
My heart began pounding.
"And?"
William looked toward the photograph.
"She started asking questions."
He swallowed.
"About the mine. About the land. About whether the silver could be recovered."
I waited.
He continued.
"At first, I thought she was simply interested."
Then his voice lowered.
"But she began meeting strangers."
"What strangers?"
"Land agents. Prospectors. Men who said they knew how to reopen old workings."
He looked toward the stove.
"One of them was Daniel."
My blood turned cold.
The intruder.
William nodded slowly.
"He was working with her father."
I stared.
"Then what happened?"
He closed his eyes.
"She disappeared."
My stomach tightened.
"With Annie?"
"Yes."
He took a breath.
"They told me a wagon had been swept into the river during a storm."
I looked toward the photograph.
"Who told you?"
William's jaw tightened.
"Her father."
The room fell silent.
He continued.
"He brought me a broken wagon wheel. A torn blanket. The remains of her coat."
I stared.
"And the coffins?"
His voice broke.
"Two."
He looked down.
"I buried them beside the hill."
I placed my hand over his.
He swallowed.
"For years, I blamed myself."
"Why?"
"Because we'd argued before she left."
His eyes filled.
"About the mine."
I squeezed his hand.
"What did she want?"
"To sell access."
"And you refused?"
He nodded.
"I told her the workings were unstable."
He looked toward the door.
"She said I was throwing away a fortune."
Then he turned back toward me.
"That was the last conversation we had."
I stared at him.
For seven years, William had believed his wife and daughter died because of an argument.
Now the daughter was alive.
The wife might be alive.
And the man who helped arrange the false death had been hiding inside our cabin.
I looked toward the old chimney.
"William."
He followed my gaze.
"What?"
"Annie came through that passage."
He nodded.
"Yes."
"How did she know it existed?"
His expression changed.
I continued.
"If your first wife knew about the mine, perhaps she knew about the passage too."
William stared at the wall.
Then slowly stood.
He approached the chimney.
Placed one hand against the wood.
And whispered, "My father."
I frowned.
"What about him?"
William turned.
"He built the cabin."
I nodded.
"He built the stove enclosure."
"Yes."
His face tightened.
"And he built a service tunnel to the old storage cellar."