“Because I didn't trust him.”
Cole nodded.
“Good.”
Hannah stared at the fire.
“Cole?”
“Yes?”
“Who was your brother?”
“An investigator.”
“For whom?”
“Anyone who paid him.”
“Was he honest?”
Cole was silent.
“I thought he was.”
The next morning, they found a note tied to the cabin door.
STOP LOOKING.
Hannah read it.
Then smiled.
Cole frowned.
“What?”
“They're afraid.”
“How do you know?”
“If they weren't, they wouldn't warn us.”
Cole took the note.
“Then we keep looking.”
The Mare That Remembered
Mercy had been a chestnut mare with a white star on her forehead.
Hannah remembered her clearly.
Her father had trusted Mercy more than any other horse.
“She could find home in a blizzard,” Samuel used to say.
“She could find trouble too,” Hannah would answer.
Samuel would laugh.
“That's why she belongs in this family.”
Hannah had believed Mercy died.
But the message on the ledger page had changed everything.
They returned to the northern valley.
After two days of searching, they found Saint Agnes Mission.
The chapel was ruined.
The roof had collapsed.
The old barn still stood.
Smoke rose from a chimney.
Someone was living there.
Cole raised his rifle.
They approached carefully.
Then Hannah heard a horse.
A soft, familiar whinny.
Her heart stopped.
“Mercy.”
The mare stood inside the barn.
Old.
Thin.
Gray around the muzzle.
But alive.
Hannah rushed toward her.
Mercy lowered her head.
Hannah wrapped both arms around her neck.
“How?”
Cole examined the stall.
“No saddle.”
Hannah stroked the mare's face.
“Maybe she doesn't need one.”
She mounted bareback.
Mercy walked out.
No reins.
No direction.
Cole followed on Ghost.
Mercy crossed the yard.
Entered the woods.
Climbed a hill.
Then turned south.
Hannah recognized the path.
“My father used to bring her here.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
Mercy continued.
They reached an old stone wall.
The mare stopped.
Hannah dismounted.
There was nothing there.
Cole searched the ground.
Eli's handwriting had said the mare remembered the road.
Maybe the road was not the destination.
Maybe the road was the clue.
They searched Mercy.
Her mane.
Her tail.
Her halter.
Her hooves.
Hannah lifted the left rear hoof.
The horseshoe was strange.
Thicker than the others.
Cole crouched.
“That's not normal.”
He pried it apart.
Inside was a thin brass key.
Eli stared.
“Samuel.”
Hannah held it up.
“What does it open?”
Nobody knew.
Then Mercy turned toward the ruined chapel.
Hannah followed her gaze.
Inside, beneath the broken altar, was an iron lock.
The key fit.
A stone slab opened.
A narrow crypt lay underneath.
Inside was a small iron box.
Hannah opened it.
Documents.
Deeds.
Witness statements.
Confessions.
Payments.
Names.
The original Circle Bar registry.
Hannah stared.
“This could destroy them.”
Cole nodded.
“How many?”
“Hundreds.”
“Maybe thousands.”