Chapter 6 - Silas Boone’s Price
The old sawmill had been abandoned for eleven years.
Its roof sagged.
Rust covered the machinery.
A dry millrace cut through the valley like a scar.
Elias arrived tied firmly into his saddle exactly as Sani had threatened.
Tavan rode beside him.
Six warriors remained hidden among the trees.
Voss had four armed men visible.
Which meant he probably had eight hidden.
Harlan Voss stood in the middle of the yard wearing a clean gray coat.
He was fifty-six, silver-haired and broad across the chest.
He looked less like a frontier criminal than a senator.
Beside him stood Silas Boone.
Elias forgot the pain in his leg.
Silas looked older than he had six months earlier.
His beard had gone almost white.
“Eli.”
Nobody else called him that.
Elias’s throat tightened.
“Is he holding you?”
Silas looked at Voss.
“No.”
The answer hurt.
Voss smiled.
“Good. We’ve eliminated one misunderstanding.”
Elias glared at him.
“Now explain fifty-seven stolen ranches.”
Voss’s smile faded slightly.
“You stole private records.”
“Call a marshal.”
“I might.”
Tavan said, “After Elias signs?”
Voss looked at him.
“You must be Tavan.”
“You knew that.”
“I suspected.”
Voss gestured toward a broken table.
“Let’s speak like civilized men.”
Tavan’s face did not move.
“You first.”
Elias almost smiled.
Silas stepped forward.
“Eli, give him the ledger.”
“No.”
“You don’t understand what’s happening.”
“That sentence has become popular.”
Silas looked ashamed.
Elias reached into his coat.
He removed the forged 1876 deed.
“Did you witness this?”
Silas saw the paper.
His face changed.
“Where did you get that?”
“Answer.”
Silas closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Tavan remained still.
Elias felt something break.
“You witnessed my signature on a deed I never signed.”
“Yes.”
“How much did he pay you?”
Silas looked at Voss.
Voss said nothing.
“Twenty-five thousand?”
Silas flinched.
Elias laughed bitterly.
“There it is.”
“No.”
“It’s in his ledger.”
“The money wasn’t for the deed.”
“What was it for?”
Silas struggled.
Voss finally spoke.
“Perhaps we should discuss your parents.”
Elias turned.
“You stay out of this.”
Voss raised both hands.
“Gladly.”
Elias looked at Silas.
“Who was Caleb Boone?”
“My brother.”
“My father?”
“Yes.”
The word struck harder than Elias expected.
“And Mara?”
Silas’s eyes filled.
“Your mother.”
“Ruth knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you lie?”
Silas looked toward Tavan.
“Because Mara asked me to.”
Elias frowned.
Tavan’s expression shifted.
“What?”
Silas reached inside his coat.
Voss’s men tensed.
Silas removed an old envelope.
“I’ve carried this for thirty-two years.”
He handed it to Elias.
The paper was soft with age.
The handwriting was unfamiliar.
Silas,
If Caleb does not survive, take Elias east.
Do not let Voss find him.
Do not let my brother bring him back until he is old enough to choose for himself.
Tell him whatever keeps him alive.
If he hates me one day for this, let him.
A living son may hate his mother.
A dead son cannot forgive her.
—Mara
Elias read the lines until they blurred.
He looked at Tavan.
“You knew about this?”
Tavan’s voice was quiet.
“I knew her wish. I had never seen the letter.”
Silas continued.
“Your father was killed that night. Your mother was wounded. She gave you to me.”
“And Ruth?”
“Ruth loved you the moment she saw you.”
Elias swallowed.
“Then why keep lying after Voss’s father died?”
Silas looked at the ground.
There it was.
The part shame lived in.
“I was afraid.”
“Of him?”
Silas looked at Harlan Voss.
“At first.”
“And later?”
Silas said nothing.
Elias’s voice hardened.
“Later?”
Voss answered for him.
“Later, he enjoyed the money.”
Silas lunged.
One of Voss’s men immediately raised a rifle.
Tavan’s warriors appeared among the trees with bows drawn.
Everything froze.
Elias stared at Silas.
“Is that true?”
Silas’s face crumpled.
“Yes.”
The word was almost inaudible.
“How much?”
“Over the years?”
“Yes.”
Silas swallowed.
“About sixty thousand.”
Elias felt sick.
Silas rushed on.
“I never sold your life.”
“You sold my name.”
“I signed papers.”
“You forged my signature.”
“Yes.”
“You helped him take Cedar Basin.”
“I thought the land was already lost.”
Tavan’s eyes burned.
“It was not yours to decide.”
Silas looked at him.
“I know.”
Voss sighed.
“Sentiment is wasting daylight.”
Elias turned toward him.
“What do you need my signature for now?”
Voss smiled faintly.
“Railroad attorneys found defects in the old transfer.”
“The forged transfer.”
“Call it what you like.”
“So you need me to sign a clean deed.”
“Yes.”
“And if I don’t?”
Voss looked toward the ledger.
“Your Kansas ranch is sold at foreclosure next month.”
Elias froze.
“That debt is false.”
Voss smiled.
“Prove it.”
Then Silas said something unexpected.
“He can.”
Voss’s expression changed.
Silas looked at Elias.
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“Because I kept the receipts.”
For the first time, Harlan Voss looked frightened.
