Chapter 10 - The Cell Behind the Courthouse

Carrick's jail had four cells.

Rourke put Corvin in the one farthest from the street.

"No visitors."

Jonah protested.

"I'm his attorney."

"You're his brother."

"I'm also licensed by the territory."

Rourke smiled.

"Then file something."

The door slammed.

Corvin sat on the cot.

Hours passed.

At sunset, a deputy brought food but no water.

Corvin almost laughed at the cruelty of it.

The entire nightmare had begun with water.

After dark, someone entered.

Not Rourke.

Silas Vane.

He carried two glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

"Thought you might appreciate civilized company."

Corvin remained seated.

"You kill Ellis?"

Vane poured.

"Terrible thing, suspicion."

"Did you?"

"No."

"Rourke?"

"Ask him."

"Voss?"

Vane took a drink.

"You see how easily the mind becomes ugly once trust disappears?"

Corvin looked at him.

"You forged my signature."

Vane smiled.

"Prove it."

"Jonah's too."

"Prove that."

"My mother's covenant—"

"An unrecorded promise between dead people."

"There's another copy."

That caught Vane's attention.

Corvin saw it.

Good.

Now Vane did not know where.

"Rebecca Mercer?" Vane asked.

Corvin smiled.

Now he knew Vane had searched the schoolhouse.

Vane realized the mistake.

They stared at each other.

"You should have taken my offer," Vane said.

"You never made me one."

"I've been making it for years. Loans. Extensions. Favors."

"You mean chains."

"I mean opportunities."

Vane moved closer to the bars.

"Your ranch is worth perhaps thirty thousand as cattle land. Black Ridge could be worth millions once rail reaches it."

"Then you should have negotiated."

"With whom? You?"

Vane laughed.

"You would have refused because your mother wrote some sentimental nonsense about water."

"Maybe."

"Exactly."

Vane's smile disappeared.

"Men like you are dangerous because you confuse stubbornness with principle."

Corvin stood.

"And men like you confuse owning papers with owning people."

Vane raised his glass.

"Your father said something similar."

Corvin's face changed.

"You knew him well?"

"Better than you did."

"He hated you."

"Eventually."

"What does that mean?"

Vane studied him.

"Elias borrowed from my father. Then he borrowed from me. When guilt became fashionable in his household, he tried to undo agreements that had already created fortunes."

"He created the Dry Creek trust."

Vane's glass stopped halfway to his mouth.

Corvin smiled.

"You didn't know we found that."

Vane set the glass down.

"Be careful."

"One hundred eighty-six thousand."

Vane's face hardened.

"Your uncle talks too much."

"That's not denial."

Vane stepped to the bars.

"Do you know what happens if that money is pulled from my company?"

"People get back what was stolen."

"No. Two hundred workers lose wages. Rail construction stops. Businesses collapse. Ranchers lose markets."

"There it is."

"What?"

"The same excuse."

Vane frowned.

Corvin repeated his father's words.

"You rename greed until you can sleep beside it."

For the first time, Vane lost control.

He threw the whiskey glass against the wall.

It shattered.

"Your father was a coward."

Corvin stepped closer.

Vane whispered, "He took the money."

"And regretted it."

"Regret is a luxury purchased after profit."

He turned toward the door.

Corvin called after him.

"Why kill Ellis?"

Vane stopped.

"I told you. I didn't."

"Then who did?"

Vane looked back.

A flicker of genuine uncertainty crossed his face.

And Corvin suddenly believed him.

That frightened him more than a confession would have.

If Vane had not ordered Ellis killed, someone else was moving pieces across the board.

Someone who wanted Corvin blamed.

Someone who perhaps wanted Vane blamed too.

After Vane left, Corvin examined the tray.

Under the bread was a folded note.

Jonah's handwriting.

DO NOT DRINK ANYTHING THEY GIVE YOU.

Below that:

ELLIS CAME TO ME BEFORE HE DIED. HE SAID ROURKE WAS HIDING SOMETHING UNDER THE COURTHOUSE.

Corvin looked down.

Wooden floorboards.

The jail occupied the rear of the courthouse.

He knelt.

One board beside the cot was newer than the others.

Corvin pried at it.

Beneath lay darkness.

And from somewhere below came the faint sound of a man coughing.

Corvin lowered his face toward the opening.

"Who's there?"

Silence.

Then a weak voice answered.

"Caleb Mercer."

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Corvin froze.

Rebecca's father had supposedly been dead for eleven years.