One day, someone may tell you that you belong to him.
Remember this:
You belong to no man.
Not your father.
Not a husband.
Not even to the memory of your mother.
Your life belongs to you.
When the time comes, look beneath the place where the first fire burned.
And trust the man who gives you the freedom to walk away from him.
Mother
I read the last line three times.
Then I looked at Harlan.
“The place where the first fire burned?”
His face was grim.
“My cabin.”
“What?”
“The cabin belonged to your mother.”
For several seconds I thought I had misunderstood.
“Your cabin?”
“She built the original one-room house with her first husband before she married your father.
Most of it burned in a chimney fire years later.
She rebuilt it.”
“My father was her first husband.”
“No.”
The words struck like thunder.
Harlan watched me carefully.
“
Gideon Hale was not your mother’s first husband.
”
My knees gave out.
I sat heavily.
Harlan continued.
“His name was Thomas Mercer.”
“Who?”
“Your mother’s husband.”
My thoughts became a storm.
“But…”
I couldn’t finish.
Harlan seemed to know the question.
“No.
I’m not saying what you think.”
He leaned forward.
“Your father is Gideon Hale.
Your mother married him after Mercer died.
But Mercer owned the mountain claim with her.”
“What mountain claim?”
“The valley where my cabin stands.”
My heart began pounding.
“How much land?”
Harlan hesitated.
“Almost eighteen hundred acres.”
I laughed once because the alternative was screaming.
“Eighteen hundred?”
“Timber.
Grazing land.
Two springs.
Part of the western ridge.”
“My father said Mother left nothing.”
“I know.”
“And you’ve lived on my mother’s land for twelve years?”
“Eleven.”
“Why?”
“To keep other men off it.”
I stared at him.
The savage mountain trapper.
The violent giant.
The man who chased timber crews from the ridge and threatened prospectors who crossed the valley.
Suddenly his reputation looked different.
“You were protecting it.”
“Yes.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because until three weeks ago, I didn’t know whether you were free enough to hear it safely.”
I looked toward Mother’s letter.
“And when Father offered me to you?”
“I saw a way to get you out of his house without putting you in immediate danger.”
“So you accepted.”
“I accepted his debt settlement.”
His jaw tightened.
“
I never accepted ownership of you.
”
Something inside my chest hurt in an entirely different way.
Outside, a horse whinnied somewhere down the mountain.
Harlan rose instantly.
“They’ve found our trail.”
We returned to his cabin after midnight.
Father and his men had left.
The front door hung broken.
Furniture had been overturned.
Drawers stood open.
The cedar chest had been emptied.
Harlan lit a lantern.
“Your mother’s letter said beneath the place where the first fire burned.”
I looked at the stone fireplace.
“This?”
“The original cabin burned before I came here.
This fireplace survived.”
We pulled away the iron grate.
Nothing.
Then Harlan examined the hearthstones.
One stone near the left side was darker than the others.
