Chapter 7 - The Stranger in the SnowWinter came early.
Snow buried the Dawson ranch beneath white silence.
Edward sat in jail awaiting trial.
The children had finally begun sleeping through the night.
For the first time in years, Samuel thought the ranch might become peaceful.
Then Olivia found blood on the porch.
Fresh blood.
No body.
No footprints.
Only a red trail disappearing toward the barn.
Samuel reached for his gun.
“Stay inside.”
Olivia shook her head.
“I'm coming.”
“You're not.”
She looked at him.
“You've nearly died three times since I met you.”
“Four.”
“That isn't comforting.”
They entered the barn.
The blood trail ended beside a stall.
Behind it they found Luke.
Alive.
Barely.
A knife had been driven into his side.
Samuel carried him inside.
The sheriff came.
Luke survived.
When he woke, he whispered:
“It wasn't Edward.”
Samuel stared.
“Who?”
Luke shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“Then who sent the letters?”
Luke's eyes moved toward Olivia.
She stepped closer.
“Tell me.”
Luke whispered:
“The woman.”
“What woman?”
“The one Edward was afraid of.”
Olivia's face changed.
“What does she look like?”
Luke closed his eyes.
“Black veil.”
Eleanor stood.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
Eleanor was trembling.
“I know who she is.”
Samuel looked at her.
“Who?”
“My father's widow.”
Olivia frowned.
“Your father's widow?”
Eleanor nodded.
“Her name is Margaret Whitmore.”
Samuel froze.
“Edward's mother.”
“She was my father's second wife.”
Olivia's expression tightened.
“She knew about the mine.”
“She knew everything.”
“And she wanted the land.”
Eleanor nodded.
“But why kill my father?”
“Because he refused to help her.”
Samuel looked toward the window.
“So she's been pulling Edward's strings.”
“Maybe.”
Suddenly Daniel began crying.
Olivia picked him up.
Then froze.
The baby's birthmark was bleeding.
A thin line of red crossed the crescent.
“What happened?”
Samuel rushed over.
Daniel screamed.
Olivia examined the mark.
“It wasn't there before.”
Eleanor whispered:
“The seal.”
Samuel looked at her.
“What seal?”
“Maybe the birthmark isn't a birthmark.”
She opened the old family book.
The crescent matched a symbol beside an ancient Dawson name.
“It's a mark used by the original mining family.”
Olivia stared.
“Then Daniel isn't just the heir.”
Eleanor nodded.
“He's the key to the entire inheritance.”
Samuel felt a cold fear settle in his chest.
Margaret wanted Daniel.
Not the land.
Not the silver.
Daniel.
That night, Olivia stayed beside the baby's crib.
Samuel entered quietly.
“You should sleep.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
She looked at Daniel.
“Because everyone who gets close to him seems to die.”
Samuel sat beside her.
“That isn't your fault.”
“My father died.”
“Not your fault.”
“Eleanor was poisoned.”
“Not your fault.”
“Your family was hunted.”
Olivia looked at him.
“Still not my fault?”
Samuel reached for her hand.
“No.”
She stared at their joined hands.
“Why are you so kind to me?”
Samuel smiled.
“I'm not kind.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I let you cut my arm open.”
“That was medical treatment.”
“You still did it.”
She laughed.
Quietly.
For the first time.
Samuel's heart tightened.
He leaned toward her.
Then stopped.
Their faces were inches apart.
Olivia whispered:
“Samuel…”
The front door exploded.
A black-clad woman stepped into the cabin.
An elderly woman.
Tall.
Elegant.
Cold.
A silver pistol in her hand.
Margaret Whitmore.
She looked at Olivia.
Then at Daniel.
“Give me my grandson.”
Samuel stood.
“No.”
Margaret smiled.
“You still think this is about the mine?”
She raised the pistol.
“It never was.”
May you like
Then she pointed at Olivia.
“I came for her father’s daughter.”
