Along one edge was a faded embroidered pattern.
Two short stitches.
Then a tiny round knot.
Amily stared.
“Harlon.”
He looked up.
She placed the fabric beside the map.
The markings matched.
He leaned forward.
“Your mother made this?”
Amily nodded.
“She embroidered little symbols into everything. Dresses. Handkerchiefs. Pillowcases.”
She looked toward the old map.
“I thought they were decorations.”
Harlon studied the pattern.
“Maybe they were directions.”
Amily touched the circle.
Her heartbeat quickened.
“The western wall.”
She looked toward him.
“The letter said the key opens a cedar compartment in the Ward house.”
Harlon nodded slowly.
“And my father's map shows something marked beside that same wall.”
For several seconds, they stared at the documents.
Then Amily looked toward the snow-covered window.
“How far is Bellwether Meadow?”
Harlon's expression tightened.
“Seven miles through the lower valley. Longer if we avoid Blackstone's road.”
She swallowed.
“Can we get there?”
“Not in this storm.”
She looked toward him.
“When?”
Harlon considered the weather.
“The wind should ease by tomorrow night. If the ridge is safe, perhaps the following morning.”
Amily glanced toward the letter.
The silver key lay in her palm.
Somewhere in an abandoned house was the evidence her mother had hidden more than twelve years earlier.
Evidence powerful men were apparently willing to threaten people to obtain.
And she was the only person who understood how Clara Ward had marked its location.
She closed her fingers around the key.
“Then we go as soon as it's safe.”
Harlon studied her.
“Amily, you don't have to—”
“Yes.”
Her voice was firm.
He stopped.
She looked directly into his eyes.
“My mother spent years carrying those papers because she believed they mattered. Your father protected his records. Your brother died after his warnings were ignored.”
Her eyes filled.
“And men are still trying to take that valley.”
Harlon remained silent.
Amily continued.
“I have spent most of my life letting other people decide what I'm capable of doing.”
She looked down at the silver key.
“I'm finished with that.”
For a moment, Harlon simply stared.
Then he nodded.
“Very well.”
She smiled.
He leaned forward.
“But we do this carefully.”
Amily raised an eyebrow.
“Are you always this commanding?”
“Only when somebody intends to walk into dangerous country during the worst winter storm I've seen in years.”