The letter was addressed:
For Mabel, on her twenty-seventh birthday.
Her hands began shaking.
Jonah had kept it.
Hidden it.
Mabel opened the envelope.
My dearest girl,
If you are reading this, then either I have lived long enough to place it in your hands or someone honest has done what I asked.
Mabel covered her mouth.
She kept reading.
The Prosperity Claim is not merely a mine. Jonah believes silver is its greatest value. He is wrong.
Mabel frowned.
The next paragraph changed everything.
There is a second vein discovered by your grandfather beneath the eastern cut. The assay showed substantial gold.
Mabel stared.
Gold.
Not silver.
Gold.
Her mother continued.
I have deliberately concealed the assay because Jonah has already begun borrowing against the silver operation without permission. At twenty-seven, half ownership becomes yours, but more importantly, the eastern cut becomes entirely yours under your grandfather’s codicil.
Mabel’s pulse thundered.
Jonah did not merely risk losing control of half a silver mine.
Mabel would personally own land containing undisclosed gold.
Worth perhaps hundreds of thousands.
Maybe more.
Now the poisoning made terrible financial sense.
A floorboard creaked outside.
Mabel froze.
The office door opened.
Jonah stood there.
Her blood turned cold.
“Mabel.”
He did not look surprised.
That was worse.
She backed toward the desk.
“You expected me.”
“I hoped.”
“Why?”
His gaze moved toward the letter.
Then the ledgers.
“To see what Gideon had made you brave enough to attempt.”
Mabel kept her breathing steady.
“He didn’t make me.”
Jonah smiled.
“No?”
“No.”
“He merely gave you somewhere to hide.”
“He gave me somewhere safe enough to stop hiding.”
Jonah’s smile vanished.
He stepped inside.
Closed the door.
Mabel’s eyes moved toward the window.
Too high.
Hallway blocked.
Jonah saw.
“No mountain man tonight?”
“Church supper?”
He laughed.
“I left early.”
Of course.
He had been watching.
Someone told him she was in town.
Who?
Mabel thought quickly.
Not Merritt.
Maybe the Ridge Creek sheriff.
Maybe Pearl.
Maybe anyone.
Jonah walked toward her.
“You found Hannah’s letter.”
“Yes.”
“She was always dramatic.”
“You poisoned me.”
He sighed.
“There it is.”
“No denial?”
“Would it matter now?”
Mabel’s heart pounded.
“What did you give me?”
“Medicine.”
“Arsenic.”
“Small amounts.”
Her stomach twisted.
“You admit it.”
“I protected you from yourself.”
Mabel almost laughed.
“By killing me?”
“By keeping you weak enough not to create trouble.”
The cruelty of the sentence stunned her more than shouting would have.
Jonah continued.
“You were supposed to remain dependent.”
He looked at her body.
“Everyone already believed your health was poor.”
Mabel felt old shame rising.
Then anger burned through it.
“You built that story.”
“I encouraged what people could already see.”
Her hands tightened.
“You told them I ate constantly.”
“You did.”
“I ate what you forced me to finish.”
“You were always large.”
“So?”
Jonah smiled.
“There. Gideon has taught you that word.”
“No.”
Mabel stood straighter.
“I learned it myself.”
The office went quiet.
She held her mother’s letter.
“You were afraid of me.”
Jonah laughed.