“He knew enough to write this.”
The cabin seemed too small for his anger.
Lavinia stepped forward.
“What does ‘give him what is mine’ mean?”
“I don't know.”
“He left me Black Hollow.”
Amos stopped.
“The whole property?”
“Yes.”
“Tunnel?”
“Yes.”
“Depot?”
“Yes.”
“All mineral rights?”
“As far as I understand.”
Amos stared at her.
“That land is worthless.”
“My attorneys said the same.”
“Then why leave it to you?”
She touched the gold pendant beneath her blouse.
“My father gave me this when I was sixteen.”
Amos’s eyes went to crest.
The same moment he had reacted to in the earlier intimate scene had not yet happened in full; now, as she drew it out, the gold caught firelight.
Beaumont Continental crest.
A mountain.
A wheel.
Three rails.
Amos stepped closer.
“That was his?”
“Yes.”
“Turn it over.”
She did.
On back:
C.B.
Amos’s breathing changed.
“I’ve seen this.”
“When?”
“Black Hollow.”
Her eyes widened.
“Your father wore it.”
“He never removed it.”
Lavinia unfastened chain.
Held pendant out.
Amos took it.
The back felt uneven.
He pressed a thumbnail along edge.
Click.
The pendant opened.
Lavinia gasped.
Inside was a tiny folded strip of paper.
They stared at each other.
Amos unfolded it.
Three numbers.
18 – 7 – 3.
Then initials:
E.V.
Amos whispered:
“Eli Vale.”
“Your brother?”
“Yes.”
“What are numbers?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked toward snow.
Then Black Hollow, somewhere beyond ridge.
“We’re going down.”
Lavinia raised eyebrow.
“You don't go down.”
“I do now.”
They left next morning.
Amos packed enough for two days.
Rifle.
Food.
Blankets.
Tools.
Lavinia refused to stay behind.
He did not insult her by insisting.
They descended slowly.
Her wound remained tender.
He shortened his pace.
She noticed.
Did not mention it.
Halfway down, they found coach.
Trunks gone.
Driver’s body absent.
Horse carcass partly covered with snow.
Someone had returned.
Lavinia stared.
“They took my trunks.”
“What was in them?”
“Clothes.”
“Anything else?”
“Papers.”
“What papers?”
“Black Hollow deed copies.”
Amos cursed.
“They knew.”
“Who?”
“Whoever wanted you on that road.”
He searched coach.
Under seat found scrap.
A matchbook.
REDSTONE HOUSE.
One of finest hotels in town.
“Driver stayed there?”
“Maybe.”
Amos examined wheel.
Something glinted.
He crouched.
Axle pin had been cut.
Not broken.
Sawed halfway through.
Then failed under strain.
He showed her.
Lavinia went pale.
“This was deliberate.”