Not because of the peat.
Because of what lies beneath it.
Rowan stared.
She opened another.
The next letter mentioned Silas Crane.
Another mentioned Northstar.
Another mentioned geese.
And gradually, a story emerged.
Rowan’s mother, Evelyn Mercer, had grown up at the Sink.
As a young woman, she discovered something unusual in the marsh.
A plant.
Tiny.
Silver-leafed.
It grew only in one flooded corner near the old creek bed.
A visiting botanist identified it as an exceptionally rare medicinal species believed extinct in the region.
But the plants were disappearing.
The marsh had become choked by invasive reeds.
Geese, the botanist believed, could restore the habitat naturally.
Evelyn planned to buy breeding geese.
Then she fell ill.
Then she died.
Rowan reached the final letter.
It had never been mailed.
On the envelope, her mother had written:
For Elias Ward.
Rowan’s hands trembled.
Inside:
Elias,
If I am gone before Rowan returns to Caldwell Flats, I need you to do what I could not.
Bring the Silver Marsh geese to the Sink.
Do not tell Rowan about the plant until the land recovers. She is stubborn enough to protect anything once she loves it, but practical enough to sell what appears useless if she becomes desperate.
Silas Crane knows about the peat.
I fear he also knows about the silverleaf.
He believes the plant can be harvested and sold privately.
It cannot survive cultivation elsewhere. Destroying the marsh would destroy it forever.
Promise me the geese reach Rowan.
And promise me she chooses the land before she learns what it is worth.
Rowan read the final sentence twice.
Then a third time.
I need to know my daughter can love something before she knows its value.
Rowan pressed the letter against her mouth.
She cried until she could not see.
At dawn, she rode to the jail.
Elias looked up when she entered.
Rowan slid the letter through the bars.
His face changed.
“You found it.”
“You knew my mother.”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
He looked down.
“She saved my life.”
Rowan waited.
“When I was seventeen, my father died. Crane owned his debt. I was working sixteen-hour days on Crane’s farm trying to pay it. Your mother discovered he was charging illegal interest.”
A bitter smile.
“She marched into Crane’s office with county records and threatened to expose him.”
“That sounds like her.”
“It does.”
“She got me free.”
Elias touched the letter.
“When she became sick, she asked me for one thing.”
“The geese.”
“Yes.”
“Why wait six years?”
“Northstar spent years developing the strain she wanted. I saved money. Ordered the eggs this spring.”
“And Crane intercepted them.”
“I think so.”
“He paid Drenner to destroy the shipment.”
“Yes.”
“And the barn?”
“Crane.”
“Then why did Drenner accuse you?”
“To make the town stop looking at Crane.”
Rowan gripped the bars.
“We can prove it.”
“How?”
She held up the bundle.
“Mother’s letters.”
Elias shook his head.
“Not enough.”
“What about the plants?”
His eyes sharpened.
“What plants?”
“I’m going to find them.”
The silverleaf grew at the lowest edge of the Sink.
Rowan had seen it before.
She had mistaken it for weeds.
Now, after months of geese clearing the reeds, the plants had returned.
Hundreds of them.
Small silver-green leaves shimmered beneath the morning sun.
Rowan knelt among them.
Her mother had walked here.
Touched these same plants.
Protected them.
Loved this miserable flooded ground.
Rowan understood suddenly why her grandfather had left her the Sink instead of selling it.
It had never been worthless.
