A Rancher Posed as a Drifter—A Widow Shared Her Last Bread Without Knowing His Secret
Chapter 4
Daniel returned to Blackthorn Ranch before sunrise.
Eleanor watched from the hill.
He rode toward the valley, wearing the same torn coat he had arrived in.
But the moment he reached the great stone house, everything changed.
Stable boys rushed toward him.
Two armed guards opened the gate.
An elderly steward hurried down the steps.
“Master Mercer!”
Daniel dismounted.
“Samuel.”
“We thought you were dead.”
“Not yet.”
The steward lowered his voice.
“Your brother has been asking questions.”
Daniel’s face hardened.
“My brother doesn’t need to know I’m alive.”
“He already suspects.”
Daniel looked toward the house.
“Where is Nathaniel?”
“Inside.”
Daniel handed his horse to a stable boy.
Then he entered through the rear door.
Nathaniel Mercer stood near the fireplace.
He was Daniel’s younger brother.
Well dressed.
Calm.
Handsome.
And dangerous.
“You’re alive.”
Daniel stopped.
“So it seems.”
Nathaniel smiled.
“I heard you were attacked on the western road.”
“I was.”
“By whom?”
“I don’t know.”
Nathaniel poured wine.
“You disappeared for twelve days.”
“I needed time.”
“For what?”
Daniel looked at him.
“To see what happens when everyone thinks I’m dead.”
Nathaniel’s hand paused.
Then he smiled again.
“You’ve always been dramatic.”
Daniel walked toward the desk.
“Where’s the land survey?”
Nathaniel’s smile vanished.
“What survey?”
“The one claiming several neighboring farms belong to Blackthorn.”
“I have no idea.”
Daniel pulled a folded document from his coat.
“I found this in the office.”
Nathaniel stared at it.
“That isn’t my handwriting.”
“No.”
Daniel placed it on the desk.
“But it bears your seal.”
Silence.
Nathaniel’s eyes hardened.
“You’ve been spying on me.”
“I’ve been watching.”
“Same thing.”
Daniel leaned closer.
“Someone is forging my name and moving my boundaries.”
Nathaniel said nothing.
Daniel turned.
“Who has access to the records?”
“Half the household.”
“Then I’ll start with all of them.”
Nathaniel stepped forward.
“You’re making a mistake.”
Daniel looked over his shoulder.
“What mistake?”
“Trusting outsiders.”
Daniel thought of Eleanor.
The widow with half a loaf of bread.
The woman who had every reason to distrust him and still opened her door.
“I’ve made worse mistakes.”
That evening, Daniel returned to Eleanor’s farm.
He found her sitting beside the fire.
She looked at him.
“You’re back.”
“Yes.”
“Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Not yet.”
Thomas ran toward him.
Daniel caught the boy.
Eleanor watched.
For a moment, Daniel forgot the documents, the stolen land, the forged seals, and his brother’s suspicious eyes.
Then a sound came from the darkness.
A horse.
Daniel immediately set Thomas down.
He reached for the pistol hidden beneath his coat.
Eleanor saw the movement.
“Who’s there?”
No answer.
Daniel stepped into the yard.
A flaming arrow struck the barn roof.
Eleanor screamed.
“Thomas!”
Daniel ran.
Another arrow flew.
The dry hay caught fire.
Daniel kicked open the barn door and pulled Thomas away from the flames.
Eleanor grabbed a bucket.
Together they fought the fire.
But as smoke filled the barn, Daniel saw something nailed to the wooden wall.
A strip of black cloth.
Stamped with a silver hawk.
Daniel’s face went cold.
He knew that symbol.
It belonged to Nathaniel’s private guards.
Someone wanted Eleanor frightened.
And someone wanted Daniel to believe his own brother was responsible.
