Clara looked toward the letter.
Then she said quietly, "Maybe we can find out."
They returned to the cabin shortly before midnight.
Samuel secured the underground chamber and locked the trapdoor beneath the woodshed.
Edgar Vale remained with them.
Daniel agreed to leave his rifle by the door.
No one trusted anyone completely.
But the immediate danger had passed.
Clara insisted they all eat something.
There was no beef left from supper.
She served hot cornbread, preserved apples, and steaming cups of coffee.
The simple meal seemed strangely appropriate.
Four people sat around a table that had held laughter only hours earlier.
Now it held the remains of a family history none of them could have imagined.
Samuel unfolded the letter again.
Clara sat beside him.
"Your mother's favorite things," she said.
He frowned.
"What?"
"The survey. Your father said it was hidden where your mother kept her favorite things."
Samuel looked toward the bedroom.
Clara followed his gaze.
"Do you know where that might be?"
He nodded slowly.
"There was a trunk."
"What trunk?"
"My mother's cedar trunk."
"Where is it?"
"In the loft."
Clara smiled faintly.
"Then I suppose we have one more thing to find."
Samuel looked at her.
"You ought to be asleep."
"So should you."
"It's late."
"And you promised we'd face this together."
He sighed.
Then smiled.
"I did, didn't I?"
She stood.
"Come along, mountain man."
Samuel rose beside her.
And for the first time since discovering the raw meat, he laughed.
The cedar trunk had stood in the loft for almost twenty years.
Samuel kept it beneath an old blanket.
He had never opened it after his mother's death.
Not because he feared what it contained.
But because grief had made the thought unbearable.
Clara climbed the loft stairs slowly while Samuel carried the lantern.
Together, they removed the blanket.
The trunk was small, beautifully crafted, and decorated with simple floral carvings.
Samuel knelt beside it.
He ran his fingers across the lid.
"My father made this for her."
Clara sat beside him.
"She must have loved it."
"She did."
He opened the latch.
Inside lay a folded shawl, several handkerchiefs, a collection of letters, and a small wooden jewelry box.
Clara gently lifted the shawl.
It smelled faintly of cedar and old lavender.
Samuel watched her.
"My mother wore that every Sunday."
Clara smiled.
"It's beautiful."
He touched the fabric.
"She was a kind woman."
"I wish I could have met her."
Samuel looked at his wife.
"She would have loved you."
Clara's eyes softened.
Then she reached for the jewelry box.
Inside were a plain silver ring, a broken hair comb, two tiny pearl earrings, and a folded piece of yellowed paper.
Samuel opened the paper.
It was a map.
A detailed survey of the mountain property.