Chapter 8 - THE SECRET BENEATH BLACKWATER CREEK
Samuel stared at the map.
It showed Blackwater Creek.
The old Morrison homestead.
A narrow trail.
And a small X beside a cluster of cottonwood trees.
He recognized the place.
It was less than half a mile from where the wagon had burned.
The next morning, Samuel and Eleanor rode to Blackwater Creek.
They brought Joseph Finch and two trusted ranch hands.
Laya remained with Martha.
The creek was low.
Summer heat had exposed rocks normally hidden beneath the current.
Samuel followed the map.
Past the broken bridge.
Beyond the old mill.
Toward three cottonwood trees growing beside a bend in the water.
He stopped.
“Here.”
Eleanor dismounted.
“What are we looking for?”
Samuel studied the ground.
“Something buried.”
They searched for nearly an hour.
Then one of the ranch hands struck metal.
Samuel knelt.
Together, they uncovered a small iron box.
It was rusted.
Locked.
But intact.
Eleanor stared.
“Open it.”
Samuel used a hammer.
The lock broke.
Inside were documents wrapped in oilcloth.
Property deeds.
Mining surveys.
Letters.
And a small leather journal.
Samuel opened it.
The first page was signed:
ELIJAH MORRISON.
The journal described months of threats.
Voss wanted the silver rights.
Elijah refused.
Then his cattle were poisoned.
His barn burned.
His workers threatened.
And finally, a stranger warned him that his family would die unless he signed the deed.
Elijah wrote that he planned to take the evidence to federal authorities.
But before he could leave, he hid copies near Blackwater Creek.
Eleanor turned a page.
Then stopped.
“Samuel.”
He looked up.
She pointed.
There was a list of names.
Henry Voss.
Sheriff Thomas Reed.
Raymond Cole.
And one more.
MRS. AGNES PETON.
Samuel felt cold.
The asylum director.
The woman who had called Laya broken.
The woman who had tried to sell her.
She had been part of the conspiracy.
They returned to town with the documents.
But before they reached Eleanor's house, they saw smoke rising above the rooftops.
Samuel's heart stopped.
He spurred his horse.
The medical office was burning.
People shouted.
Buckets of water passed from hand to hand.
Samuel jumped down.
“Laya!”
Martha stumbled from the doorway.
Her face was blackened with soot.
“She's gone!”
Samuel froze.
“What?”
Martha began crying.
“They took her.”
Eleanor grabbed her arm.
“Who?”
Martha looked toward Samuel.
May you like
Then whispered:
“Mrs. Peton.”
