“Cutter knew where the railroad wanted the pass before anyone else did.”
“And he was buying everything cheap.”
“Or taking it.”
The wind pushed snow against the house in a long hiss.
I turned to the next sheet.
Rose’s letter said she had confronted Cutter privately.
Not because she imagined herself brave, she wrote, but because she thought exposing one forged transaction would frighten him into correcting the others.
Instead, Cutter smiled.
I knew that smile.
He asked whether Jonah knew what she had found.
Rose lied and said no.
That night somebody searched the Reddick house.
The following morning, one of Rose’s copied account sheets was missing.
She and Jonah understood what came next.
“Why didn’t you go to the town?” I asked.
Jonah gave me a tired look.
“Cutter was the town.”
I hated how easily I understood.
He controlled contracts, freight, winter credit, and enough local favors that men who despised him still removed their hats when he walked past.
Rose and Jonah decided she would leave secretly with the original copies she had made.
Jonah remained behind so anyone watching would assume she was still close.
But Rose disappeared too completely.
And Cutter saw an opportunity.
A question began circulating before Jonah even reported her gone.
What kind of husband cannot say where his wife went?
Then came another.
Had anyone noticed how quiet the Reddick place had become?
Then another.
Had Jonah ever had a temper?
No body was found.
No blood.
No witness.
None of that mattered once Blackpine had been given a story more satisfying than uncertainty.
Within a month, Rose Reddick had become a murdered woman.
Jonah had become her murderer.
“And you said nothing,” I whispered.
“If I defended myself too hard, Cutter would know Rose was alive.”
“So you destroyed your own name.”
Jonah looked toward the dark window.
“A name grows back easier than a dead wife.”
I had no answer for that.
The next page was not a letter.
It was a copied ledger sheet.
Parcel numbers.
Prices.
Initials.
Dates.
My father’s land appeared near the bottom.
Beside it was a figure four times larger than Cutter’s last offer to me.
Below that was a second figure larger still, marked with a railroad notation.
I understood then why Cutter had never raised his offer enough to tempt me.
He did not intend to bargain fairly.
He intended to wait until I became desperate.
A woman alone.
A brutal winter.
No family close enough to intervene.
