Her name appeared on the front.

Maylin.

Daniel’s handwriting.

Her knees weakened.

She sat at the table.

Then she unfolded the letter.

My dearest Maylin,

Tears instantly filled her eyes.

She could almost hear Daniel speaking.

If you are reading this, one of two things happened. Either I finally gathered the courage to explain everything myself, or I did not make it home.

Maylin covered her mouth.

She continued reading.

If it is the second, remember this above everything else.

Do not trust Cyrus Bell.

Maylin slowly looked toward Gideon.

Then she returned to the letter.

Daniel explained that Cyrus Bell had repeatedly tried to purchase their northern acreage.

Daniel always refused.

Bell eventually doubled his offer.

That made Daniel suspicious.

He investigated.

What he discovered was hidden beneath the Harrow property.

Not gold.

Not silver.

Water.

A massive underground spring flowed beneath the northern ridge.

In drought-stricken Montana, the discovery was potentially worth a fortune.

Whoever controlled the spring could supply nearby ranches, cattle operations, and future settlements.

But Daniel uncovered something even worse.

Cyrus Bell had been stealing land.

For years.

He created false mortgage debts against isolated farmers, elderly ranchers, and widows.

People who lacked the money to challenge the bank believed they owed him.

When they failed to pay fabricated debts, Bell seized their property.

Daniel found evidence involving at least nine families.

Maylin was supposed to become number ten.

Her hands began trembling harder.

Then she reached the final paragraph.

Gideon Vale has the rest.

Whatever you have heard about him, trust him.

I would trust that man with my life.

In truth, I already have.

Maylin lowered the letter.

“You were with Daniel when he died.”

Gideon said nothing.

“You were, weren’t you?”

Finally, he nodded.

“Yes.”

“Did you see the man who shot him?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

Gideon looked straight into her eyes.

“Cyrus Bell.”

The Truth About Daniel Harrow’s Murder

Maylin suddenly felt sick.

“The sheriff said Daniel died immediately.”

Gideon’s expression changed.

“No.”

Maylin stared.

“What?”

“He lived almost two hours.”

Her face drained of color.

“No.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No.”

“The sheriff lied.”

Maylin turned away.

For eleven months she had found comfort in believing Daniel never suffered.

That comfort disappeared in one sentence.

“He talked about you,” Gideon said.

Maylin closed her eyes.

“And the girls.”

Shaw moved closer.

“Did Papa talk about me?”

Gideon crouched.

“He said you were the bravest seven-year-old in Montana.”

Shaw stared suspiciously.

“I wasn’t seven when Papa died.”

Gideon smiled faintly.

“He said you would be by Christmas.”

Her lips trembled.

“And he said you cheated at checkers.”

“I do not!”

Gideon nodded seriously.

“He said you’d say that too.”