“I wish we'd known what he was doing. Maybe we could have helped.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Maybe he wanted you to have a life that didn't involve looking over your shoulder.”
Abigail looked at him.
“Did Eleanor want that for you?”
He did not answer.
She regretted the question immediately.
“I'm sorry.”
“No.”
He looked ahead.
“It's a fair question.”
A hawk circled above the ridge.
Daniel watched it for a moment.
“Eleanor wanted us to have children.”
Abigail's expression softened.
“She talked about it all the time. Wanted a house with a porch, a garden, and a school close enough that our children could walk there.”
He smiled faintly.
“She wanted three.”
“Three?”
“Two boys and a girl. Though she said she'd accept whatever God sent.”
Abigail looked toward her sisters.
“Three children.”
Daniel nodded.
“Funny thing is, I never cared much about the number.”
“What did you care about?”
He was quiet for a long time.
Then he answered.
“Coming home.”
Abigail felt something tighten in her chest.
She understood that longing more than she wanted to admit.
After their mother's death, she had become the one responsible for everyone else. She cooked, cleaned, managed accounts, comforted Lucy, argued with Rachel, and helped their father keep the ranch alive.
She had spent so many years being strong that she sometimes forgot what it felt like to have someone else carry the burden.
Now she was riding beside a man who had opened his home to three strangers, faced down armed gunmen, and risked everything without asking for anything in return.
It frightened her how quickly she had begun to trust him.
She looked away before he could notice.
By noon, they reached the ruins of an old mining road.
Weathered wooden posts leaned beside the trail. Rusted equipment lay half-buried in weeds. Farther up the slope, the remains of several cabins stood beneath a line of dark pines.
Daniel stopped.
“Blackstone.”
Lucy looked around.
“It feels abandoned.”
“It is.”
Rachel studied the hills.
“Then why would Father hide anything here?”
Daniel dismounted.
“Because nobody comes looking for secrets in places they think are empty.”
He tied Midnight to a broken fence post.
The sisters followed.
Ahead stood a small wooden church.
Its roof had partially collapsed.
The windows were empty.
And above the entrance, a narrow bell tower rose against the gray sky.
Abigail stared at it.
“The third bell.”
Daniel nodded.
“Maybe.”
They approached the building.
The church door hung crookedly from one hinge.
Inside, dust covered the pews. Sunlight filtered through holes in the roof, illuminating drifting particles in the cold air.
A wooden cross remained above the altar.
The bell rope had rotted away.
Daniel examined the tower.
Then he looked at the notebook.
“Eleanor's drawing shows three bells.”
Rachel glanced upward.
“There's only one.”
“Now.”
He moved toward the back wall.
A row of old wooden plaques hung beside the entrance.
Most were unreadable.
But one bore a faded inscription:
In memory of the miners lost beneath Blackstone Ridge, 1868.
Beneath the inscription were three small bells carved into the wood.
Daniel ran his fingers across them.
Abigail approached.
“What does it mean?”
He studied the carving.
Then he noticed something.
The bells were not identical.
The first had a straight handle.
The second had a curved handle.
The third had a small star beneath it.
Daniel turned toward the church floor.
“Look for a star.”
Rachel frowned.
“Where?”
“Anywhere.”
They began searching.
Lucy examined the pews.
Abigail checked the walls.
Rachel moved toward the altar.
Daniel inspected the floorboards.
Ten minutes passed.
Then Lucy called out.
“Daniel!”
He turned.
She stood beside the ruined pulpit.
“What is it?”
She pointed to a small brass plate fixed to the wood.
A star had been engraved into its surface.
Beneath it were three words.
Truth Beneath Stone.
Daniel knelt.
The plate was secured with two screws.
He removed his pocketknife and worked them loose.
Behind the plate was a narrow opening.
Inside lay a small iron handle.
Daniel pulled it.
Nothing happened.
He tried again.
A heavy scraping sound echoed beneath the floor.
Rachel stepped back.
“What was that?”
Daniel looked toward the altar.
One of the floorboards had shifted.
He crossed the church and knelt beside it.
A narrow gap had appeared.
He pulled.
The board lifted.
Beneath it was a stone staircase descending into darkness.
Lucy gasped.
Abigail stared.
Daniel lifted his lantern.
“Well,” he said quietly, “your father certainly knew how to keep a secret.”
Rachel stepped forward.
“Let's go.”
Daniel caught her arm.
“Wait.”
“Why?”
He pointed toward the darkness.
“Because we don't know what's down there.”
Rachel looked at the staircase.
Then at Daniel.
“We've come this far.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
He checked his revolver.
Then he lifted the lantern.
“I go first.”
Abigail touched his sleeve.
“Be careful.”
Daniel looked at her.
For one brief moment, the danger around them seemed to disappear.
He saw the fear in her eyes.
And something else.
Something he was not ready to name.
“I will,” he said.
Then he descended into the darkness.
CHAPTER SIX: THE ROOM BENEATH THE MOUNTAIN
The staircase seemed to descend forever.
Daniel counted thirty-two stone steps before his boots reached level ground.
The air was cold and damp.
Water dripped somewhere in the darkness, each drop echoing through the underground passage.
Behind him, Abigail carried a second lantern.
Rachel followed with her revolver drawn.
Lucy came last, one hand resting against the rough stone wall.
The passage was narrow enough that they had to walk single file.
Old wooden support beams held up the ceiling.
Several were cracked.
Daniel examined them carefully.
“Stay close to the wall.”
Rachel looked upward.
“Is it safe?”
“Safe enough if nobody starts jumping.”
Lucy glanced at the beams.
“I wasn't planning to.”
They continued.
After several minutes, the passage opened into a small chamber.
An underground stream flowed along one side, disappearing beneath a wall of stone.
Abigail stopped.
“Water beneath the stone.”
Daniel nodded.
“Just like the note.”
Across the chamber stood a heavy iron door.
It was covered in rust.
At its center was a small triangular keyhole.
Lucy reached into her pocket.
“The key.”
Daniel took it.
He examined the lock.
Then he inserted the brass key.
It fit perfectly.
He turned it.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then a deep metallic click echoed through the chamber.
Daniel pulled the handle.
The door resisted.
He braced one boot against the stone and pulled harder.
With a terrible groan, it swung open.
Beyond lay a room that had not seen daylight in decades.
Shelves lined the walls.
Wooden crates stood stacked beneath a long table.
Several oil lamps hung from hooks.
And in the center of the room stood a large iron safe.
Abigail stared.
“What is this place?”
Daniel stepped inside.
“A hiding place.”
Rachel examined the shelves.
“For what?”
Daniel lifted the lantern.
“Whatever someone wanted the world to forget.”