She Wrote Letters for Every Lonely Man in Town—Then a Rancher Asked for One Addressed to Her
Chapter 8
They went to the cemetery before dawn.
Clara’s father’s grave was covered in wet leaves.
The stone had been disturbed.
Not broken.
Moved.
Thomas knelt beside it.
“There.”
A small wooden box had been pushed beneath the stone.
Clara opened it.
Inside was a red ledger.
She stared.
“So this is what they wanted.”
Thomas turned the first page.
Names filled it.
Nathaniel Whitlock.
Amos Bell.
Three merchants.
Two land surveyors.
A magistrate.
And one name Clara did not recognize.
Elias Vale.
Her father.
She looked at Thomas.
“My father was involved.”
“No.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know enough.”
Thomas turned the page.
There were payments.
Bribes.
Forged signatures.
Land transfers.
And beside several transactions was a strange symbol.
A small black circle.
Clara recognized it.
“My mother used that mark.”
“What does it mean?”
“I don’t know.”
They continued reading.
Then Clara found something that made her hands tremble.
The Whitlocks had been buying land from men who had no legal right to sell it.
The letters written by Clara’s father had exposed the scheme.
Her mother had copied them.
Her father had hidden them.
And when the Whitlocks discovered what they knew, Clara’s mother died under circumstances everyone had called an accident.
Clara closed the ledger.
“She was murdered.”
Thomas said nothing.
For a moment, the only sound was wind through the cemetery trees.
Then Clara whispered, “My father spent his whole life afraid.”
Thomas touched her shoulder.
“You don’t have to be.”
She looked at him.
“I am.”
“I know.”
“I am afraid of losing the shop.”
“We’ll protect it.”
“I’m afraid they’ll hurt you.”
“They might.”
“I’m afraid that if I marry you, you’ll become a target.”
Thomas stepped closer.
“You think I wasn’t already?”
Clara looked into his eyes.
He spoke softly.
“I’ve been a target since my father refused to sell the ranch.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wanted you to know me before you knew my enemies.”
That sentence broke something inside her.
She reached for his hand.
Thomas looked down.
Her fingers were trembling.
So were his.
“I haven’t said yes,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“But I think I’m getting close.”
