Chapter 3 - THE BULLET ABOVE DAISY’S HEADThe sound shattered the kitchen.
Neither did Elias Mercer.
The children eventually collapsed wherever exhaustion found them.
Caleb slept on the rug beside the stove, one arm wrapped protectively around six-year-old Ben. Anna and Jacob shared Samuel’s old room. Daisy curled beneath Ruth’s quilt clutching the wooden rabbit Samuel had carved years earlier for the child they had once believed would come.
Ruth sat beside her until midnight.
The little girl had called her Mama only once.
Ruth knew it had been an accident.
Daisy had been exhausted, frightened, half asleep.
But the word had entered Ruth’s heart like sunlight through a locked window.
Downstairs, Elias stood at the kitchen window.
“You can still change your mind,” he said when Ruth entered.
“No.”
“I have enough gold to pay.”
“This isn’t about gold.”
His expression suggested he did not believe that.
Ruth poured coffee.
“Samuel built this house for a family.”
Elias glanced toward the ceiling where floorboards creaked under sleeping children.
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“Did you want one?”
The question hurt more than Ruth expected.
“Yes.”
Elias lowered his eyes.
“I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No. People usually tell me what I wanted instead of asking.”
He said nothing.
So Ruth told him.
About the years of waiting.
About doctors who knew little and women who knew even less but offered opinions freely.
About losing Samuel.
About waking after his funeral to discover that everyone had transformed her grief into gossip.
Elias listened without interruption.
Finally he said, “My wife, Rebecca, lost two babies before Caleb.”
Ruth looked up.
“She blamed herself.”
“She shouldn’t have.”
“I told her that.”
“Did she believe you?”
“No.”
Ruth understood.
Morning brought trouble.
Before breakfast ended, Pastor Silas Crowe arrived with Abigail Hensley and Sheriff Walter Boone.
Boone was a tired-looking man in his fifties who seemed embarrassed to be there.
Abigail was not.
“These children need proper placement,” she announced.
Ruth folded her arms.
“They have proper placement.”
“You cannot simply collect strangers.”
“I didn’t collect them.”
Abigail looked at Elias.
“The man is a drifter.”
Elias stood slowly.
At six feet four, he did not need to speak loudly.
“I have a name.”
“I’m sure you have several.”
Ruth stepped between them.
Pastor Crowe raised both palms.
“No one wants conflict.”
“Then stop bringing it to my door,” Ruth replied.
The pastor cleared his throat.
“Our concern is moral.”
Ruth almost smiled.
Hollow Creek became deeply concerned with morality whenever other people’s property was involved.
Crowe continued.
“A widowed woman living beneath one roof with an unmarried man…”
“He sleeps in the barn.”
“That hardly prevents speculation.”
“Your speculation is not my responsibility.”
Abigail’s face tightened.
Sheriff Boone shifted awkwardly.
“There’s also the matter of the children.”
Elias looked at him sharply.
“What matter?”
“There was trouble in Silver Ridge.”
The room became still.
Elias’s expression changed.
Ruth noticed immediately.
Boone reached into his coat.
“I received a telegram this morning.”
He unfolded it.
“An Elias Mercer is wanted for questioning concerning a dead man named Amos Vale.”
Caleb stood so fast his chair scraped backward.
“My father didn’t kill him!”
Elias turned.
“Caleb.”
“But he didn’t!”
Ruth looked at Elias.
“Who is Amos Vale?”
Elias did not answer immediately.
That worried her more than anything.
Finally he said, “A mining boss.”
“Dead?”
“Yes.”
“Did you kill him?”
“No.”
Abigail laughed softly.
“Of course.”
Elias ignored her.
“Vale owned the claim beside mine. After Rebecca died, he tried taking our land. He said a man with five children couldn’t defend a mountain.”
“What happened?”
“We fought.”
“Then?”
“I left him standing.”
Boone studied him.
“When?”
“October twenty-sixth.”
“The body was found October twenty-seventh.”
Abigail looked triumphant.
“There you have it.”
“You have nothing,” Ruth said.
Abigail turned.
“You know this man for one night.”
“And I’ve known you forty years. Guess which experience makes me trust strangers?”
Even Sheriff Boone almost smiled.
Pastor Crowe did not.
“The children cannot remain with a fugitive.”
Elias’s jaw tightened.
“I am not a fugitive.”
“You left Silver Ridge.”
“My cabin was buried.”
Crowe stepped closer to Ruth.
“If Sheriff Boone takes Mr. Mercer into custody, the children will require temporary homes.”
Ruth understood.
“Whose?”
Abigail smiled.
“Several respectable families have volunteered.”
Caleb moved beside Daisy.
“No.”
Abigail continued.
“The twins could stay with the Coopers. Benjamin with the Tillmans. The youngest—”
“No!” Caleb shouted.
Daisy began crying.
Elias crossed the room.
“My children stay together.”
“That may not be possible.”
Ruth felt something inside her ignite.
She had listened quietly while Hollow Creek discussed her body.
Her marriage.
Her widowhood.
Her empty bedrooms.
She would not stand quietly while they divided frightened children like household furniture.
“They’re staying here.”
Boone sighed.
“Ruth—”
“Arrest Elias if you have legal grounds. But until a judge tells me otherwise, those children remain in this house.”
Pastor Crowe’s voice sharpened.
“You are inviting scandal.”
“I survived yours.”
Abigail stepped close enough for Ruth to smell rosewater.
“You think feeding five children makes you a mother?”
Ruth’s face went cold.
“No.”
She glanced toward the children.
“Protecting them from people like you might.”
Abigail left furious.
But trouble had only begun.
Sheriff Boone did not arrest Elias.
The telegram requested questioning, not detention.
Still, by noon, the story had spread through Hollow Creek.
Mountain murderer.
Gold thief.
Savage children.
Desperate widow.
By sunset, customers stopped bringing sewing to Ruth.
The mercantile refused Elias credit.
The butcher claimed he had no meat to spare.
Someone painted one word across Ruth’s barn.
HARLOT.
Caleb found it first.
Ruth discovered him trying to scrub it away with frozen water.
His hands were blue.
She grabbed the rag.
“Stop.”
His eyes filled with shame.
“They did this because of us.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“They did it because cruelty becomes boring when it has no new target.”
Caleb looked at her.
“You talk strange.”
“So did Samuel.”
“Your husband?”
“Yes.”
“Was he good?”
“The best man I knew.”
“Better than Pa?”
Ruth almost laughed.
“That remains to be determined.”
Caleb smiled for the first time.
Then hoofbeats approached.
Elias rode hard into the yard.
He jumped from his horse holding a folded newspaper.
His face was pale.
Ruth met him at the porch.
“What happened?”
He handed her the paper.
It was from Silver Ridge.
The headline stopped her breath.
MOUNTAIN MURDERER FLEES WITH STOLEN CHILDREN AND $20,000 IN GOLD.
Below it was a crude drawing of Elias.
Ruth read further.
Then she found the line that changed everything.
According to the article, the gold Elias carried had belonged to Amos Vale’s mining company.
“That’s a lie,” Elias said.
Ruth looked at him.
“Can you prove it?”
He hesitated.
“Yes.”
Relief came too quickly.
“Then we prove it.”
“There’s a problem.”
“What?”
“The proof is still on the mountain.”
Elias looked toward his children through the window.
“And the men who murdered Amos Vale know exactly where it is.”
That night, someone fired a rifle through Ruth Caldwell’s kitchen window.
May you like
The bullet buried itself in the wall three inches above Daisy’s head.
And for the first time, Ruth understood that Hollow Creek’s gossip might be the least dangerous thing that had followed Elias Mercer down the mountain.
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