“It’s outdated.”
“No,” said the second official. “It’s the route our board approved provisionally last month.”
A shock traveled through the room.
People began talking.
The railroad would run south.
Not north.
All the speculative land Arthur had purchased was nearly worthless.
The official traced the map.
“The difficulty is water rights.”
Cora slowly opened Thomas’s metal box.
“I believe I own them.”
Arthur’s face changed again.
This time, it was fear.
The railroad official examined the deed.
“How much land?”
“Twenty-eight acres.”
He looked up.
“Mrs. Thornton, this document gives you title to the spring and underground water access throughout the southern section.”
Arthur suddenly lunged across the counter.
Josiah caught him.
The banker struggled wildly.
“You stupid woman! Do you have any idea what that paper is worth?”
Cora stared at him.
“I’m beginning to.”
“You owe me!”
“No.”
“This bank holds your mortgage!”
Cora’s eyes narrowed.
Arthur smiled desperately.
“I can foreclose. Today. The land becomes bank property.”
The crowd went silent.
Even Josiah looked concerned.
Arthur began laughing.
“Yes.”
He straightened his coat.
“You thought you had won?”
Harriet stared at him.
“Arthur…”
“Quiet.”
He pointed at Cora.
“Her payment is overdue. Her property secures the note. I can begin foreclosure before she leaves this building.”
Josiah stepped forward.
“I’ll pay it.”
Arthur’s laugh sharpened.
“No.”
“You just stated the amount.”
“I refuse payment.”
“You can’t.”
“I own the note.”
Arthur’s eyes glittered.
“And by sundown, I will own the Thornton property.”
For the first time, Cora looked uncertain.
Arthur saw it.
He savored it.
Then Nellie tugged her mother’s sleeve.
“Mama?”
“Not now, sweetheart.”
“But Papa said banks don’t own promises.”
Cora looked down.
“What?”
Nellie frowned, trying to remember.
“Papa said that.”
“When?”
“Before he died. When we were playing treasure.”
Arthur froze.
Cora knelt.
“What treasure?”
“The red box.”
“What red box?”
Nellie looked toward Arthur.
Then back at her mother.
“Papa said if a bad man tried to take our house, I should remember where I put the red box.”
Cora’s heart began pounding.
“Where?”
Nellie smiled faintly.
“In my doll.”
Arthur moved.
Josiah grabbed him.
“Let me go!”
Cora stared at Nellie.
“Which doll?”
“My cloth one. The one Mrs. Perry made.”
The house had burned.
Cora’s hope collapsed.
“Nellie… the doll was inside.”
“No.”
The child shook her head.
“I took her to Mrs. Higgins yesterday.”
Every eye turned toward Edwin Higgins.
The shopkeeper gasped.
“She did.”
He ran from the bank.
Returned six minutes later carrying a battered cloth doll.
One side was patched.
Nellie took it.
“Papa told me never to open the red stitches unless somebody tried to take our home.”
Cora saw them.
Tiny red stitches running along the doll’s back.
Her fingers shook as she cut the thread with a clerk’s knife.
Inside the stuffing was a narrow tin container.
Arthur began struggling again.
“No!”
Cora opened it.
A folded document slid into her hands.
She read the first line.
Then the second.
Then she stopped.
Josiah saw her expression.
“What is it?”
Cora looked at Arthur.
He had gone completely still.
“The mortgage release.”
The room erupted.
Arthur shouted, “That’s impossible!”
Cora read aloud.
Paid in full.
Clearwater Bank.
Signed Arthur Gable.
Dated three weeks before Thomas’s death.
Arthur stared at the signature.
His own signature.
Thomas had paid the mortgage.
Cora’s voice shook.
“Why was I still making payments?”
No one answered.
She looked at Arthur.
“Why did you tell me we still owed money?”
Arthur said nothing.
The truth spread through the crowd before anyone spoke it.
He had been stealing from a widow.
Month after month.
While pretending her home remained in debt.
Higgins swore aloud.
Harriet covered her mouth.
The marshal took the release.
“That adds fraud.”
Arthur looked around.
The town that had once bowed when he entered a room now watched him with disgust.
He whispered, “You don’t understand.”
Cora stepped closer.
“Then explain.”
Arthur’s composure finally broke.
“Your husband was going to ruin everything!”
“He found the truth.”
“He was a farmer with a transit!”
“He was my husband.”
“He had no right!”
Cora’s voice dropped.
“No right to what?”
Arthur realized too late.
Too late that everyone was listening.
Too late that the marshal stood six feet away.
Too late that anger had opened his mouth before caution could close it.
Arthur shouted, “He had no right to refuse me after everything I did to get that route!”
Silence.
Marshal Reed spoke softly.
“What did you do?”
Arthur’s face drained.
