Barely.

Accidentally, perhaps.

Yet Nora felt that touch for the rest of the night.

Thursday morning, Thomas came to her carrying a wooden box.

“My father doesn’t know.”

Nora stared.

“Miriam’s?”

He nodded.

“Thomas—”

“You should see it.”

He placed it on the table.

The box was cedar.

Inside were folded letters, pressed flowers, a silver hair comb, baby teeth wrapped in cloth, and six locks of hair tied with blue ribbon.

Nora smiled despite herself.

Then she saw the photograph.

Her smile vanished.

A young woman stood beside a well.

Dark hair.

Round cheeks.

Wide-set brown eyes.

Nora’s hands began trembling.

“No.”

Thomas watched her.

Nora lifted the picture closer.

The woman looked nothing like Nora.

And yet…

Something.

Something in the eyes.

Behind the photograph, faded ink read:

Miriam Bell Greer, 1871.

Nora searched deeper.

Then found an envelope.

Her name was written across it.

MISS NORA CALLAWAY
SORROW CREEK, MISSOURI

Unsent.

Her breathing stopped.

Thomas whispered, “Open it.”

Nora broke the seal.

Dear Nora,

You do not know me, though I believe I have known your name since before I understood what a name was.

I have tried twice to write this letter and twice lost courage.

There is something my mother told me before she died that concerns Beatrice Callaway.

Nora stopped reading.

Her heart hammered.

Beatrice.

Her mother.

She continued.

I believe our families are connected in a way neither of us was permitted to understand.

If you receive this letter, please come to Greer Ranch.

There are things I cannot safely put on paper.

Please believe me when I tell you I have no wish to harm you.

I believe something was stolen from both of us.

Miriam

Nora looked up.

Thomas whispered, “There’s more.”

At the bottom of the box lay a ledger.

Not a diary.

A list.

Dates.

Names.

Payments.

One appeared repeatedly.

S.

Ward.

Silas Ward.

Nora’s skin prickled.

Then another name appeared.

Beatrice Callaway.

Her mother.

“What is this?”

Thomas shook his head.

“I don’t know.”

Nora turned pages.

Payment received from S.

Ward.

Rail survey complete.

Greer south parcel disputed.

Then the final entry.

Three days before Miriam’s death.

If Silas learns I found the original deed, Harlon and the boys are in danger.

Nora Callaway may be the only person who can prove what happened.

Nora stood so quickly the chair crashed backward.

“Harlon!”

Thomas grabbed her wrist.

“No.”

She stared at him.

“Why?”

His face twisted.

“Because I showed Mama the same ledger before she died.”

Nora froze.

“What?”

“I found it in Silas Ward’s office.”

“You stole it?”

Thomas nodded.

“I thought he was cheating Pa.

Mama read it.

She started asking questions.”

His voice began shaking.

“The barn burned three nights later.”

Nora remembered Harlon’s scar.

“The night she died?”

Thomas nodded.

“But your mother had fever.”

Thomas stared at her.

“That’s what everyone said.”

A chill moved down Nora’s spine.

“What are you saying?”

Thomas’s eyes filled with tears.

“I don’t think Mama died from fever.”

Harlon went pale when Nora showed him the ledger.

Then furious.

“You had no right.”

“Your wife addressed a letter to me.”

“You had no right!”

“Your son believes she was murdered.”

Harlon’s fury vanished.

Slowly.

Completely.

“What?”

Thomas stood in the doorway.

“I saw Silas.”

Harlon turned.

Thomas looked terrified.

“The night of the fire.”

Harlon’s face emptied.