I was not a good husband often enough.
That truth is harder to write than anything else.
Jonas saved nothing from me except the truth because there was little else left.
If he survives, trust him more than you trusted me.
He did not ask for that sentence.
I am giving it anyway.
Philip
Miriam stopped.
The fire cracked.
Her vision blurred until the words disappeared.
She placed the paper on the table.
For several moments she could not speak.
Jonas remained where he was.
He made no move to comfort her.
Again, somehow, that restraint mattered.
Miriam wiped one tear away angrily.
“You had this for four years.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you not bring it to me?”
Jonas closed his eyes.
There it was.
The real wound.
He sat opposite her.
“Because I failed.”
Miriam’s grief hardened.
“How?”
“I left the cabin after Philip died.”
Her breath stopped.
Jonas continued quickly.
“I buried him under stone because the ground was frozen. I took the letters and started south.”
“What happened?”
“My leg gave out two miles from the trading trail.”
He was found three days later by trappers.
Half-conscious.
Fevered.
His damaged leg had become infected.
He spent nearly six weeks in a mission infirmary.
“When I woke properly, the packet was gone.”
Miriam stared.
“Gone?”
“The men who found me had taken my pack to the trading post. Somebody opened it.”
Jonas pointed to the leather packet.
“I recovered the ring because it was tied around my neck under my shirt. The documents disappeared.”
“But they’re here.”
“I found them later.”
“How much later?”
“Three years.”
Miriam stood.
The chair scraped backward.
“Three years?”
“Yes.”
“Where were they?”
“A man named Elias Voss had them.”
“Who is that?”
“A clerk who worked for Gideon Vale.”
Miriam’s stomach turned.
“Vale.”
Jonas nodded.
“Philip was right about him.”
“What did Vale want?”
“The land.”
Miriam looked at the deed.
“Forty acres?”
“It wasn’t worthless.”
Jonas unfolded a survey map.
“The property sits above a narrow pass used by the new wagon route. There’s also timber and water. More important, someone discovered silver two miles north.”
Miriam stared.
“Vale wanted Philip’s deed.”
“Yes.”
“And you spent three years looking for these papers?”
“Yes.”
“Instead of looking for me.”
Jonas said nothing.
She took that as an answer.
Anger returned.
“You could have come to Baltimore without them.”
“I know.”
“You could have told me Philip was dead.”
“I know.”
“You could have brought the ring.”
“I know.”
“Instead I spent four years thinking my husband disappeared and left me with nothing.”
Jonas’s voice dropped.
“I know.”
Miriam’s palm struck the table.
“Stop saying that.”