But the capital C bent in the peculiar way her mother always wrote it.
She touched the page.
“That's hers.”
Harlon remained silent.
Amily leaned closer.
Her mother had written that certain records were being removed for safekeeping because she feared they could disappear if left in the county office.
She requested that Benjamin Boone, Harlon's father, preserve his original field measurements.
She would keep the supporting family papers.
Together, the two sets of evidence could establish what had been recorded before Blackstone's disputed transactions.
At the bottom, Clara wrote:
I have a daughter. If anything happens to me, please remember that she must never be made responsible for the quarrels of men who valued land more than people.
Amily stopped reading.
The words blurred.
She stared at the sentence.
Then whispered, “She was talking about me.”
Harlon nodded.
“Yes.”
For a long time, Amily didn't speak.
She remembered her mother in a little kitchen in Missouri.
Her hair pinned beneath a plain scarf.
Her hands moving quickly as she sewed.
The way she insisted that Amily learn her letters.
How to calculate accounts.
How to recognize when someone was being cheated.
She remembered asking about Colorado once.
Her mother had gone very quiet.
Then said only that the mountains were beautiful, but some memories were better left behind.
Now Amily understood that the silence concealed fear.
She looked toward Harlon.
“Why did she leave?”
He shook his head.
“I only know part of the story.”
He paused.
“My father believed she'd discovered something wrong with the company's documents.”
Amily stared.
“And he couldn't find her?”
“Not after she left Colorado.”
Harlon looked toward the old letter.
“He wrote to addresses people remembered. Sent inquiries to relatives. But most came back unanswered.”
Amily swallowed.
“My mother died twelve years ago.”
Harlon's expression softened.
“I'm sorry.”
She nodded.
Then looked toward the strongbox.
“Why would Silas Vale want me?”
Harlon took a slow breath.
“The Ward family interest didn't simply disappear when your grandfather died.”
Amily frowned.
He continued.
“If the records establish the succession properly, you may be the surviving heir to rights Blackstone claims were released.”
Her heart began pounding.
“I own land?”
“Possibly an interest in the upper tract, subject to what the original documents and estate records prove.”
She stared.