Chapter 4 - The Ledger of Secrets
The library smelled of old leather, cured tobacco, and beeswax. Floor-to-ceiling shelves held thousands of volumes, a treasure trove that Ria had barely begun to explore. But today, the room was filled with heavy tension rather than literary curiosity.
Trace stood by the large oak desk, spreading out thick leather-bound ledgers, old land grants, and personal journals left behind by his late father, Silas Calder.
Ria sat across from him, a cup of herbal tea cooling untouched between her hands.
"Mara isn't just fighting us because she thinks you're unsuitable," Trace said, flipping open a yellowed ledger from 1882. "She's fighting because of what my father's will actually says."
"You haven't read it to me yet," Ria noted.
"My father was paranoid," Trace explained, his finger tracing faded ink lines. "He built this empire out of raw timber and ruthless deals. When he died, he left the controlling share of Calder & Sons to me, provided that within five years of his passing, I married someone who understood the value of the land. If I failed—or if I married someone the board deemed a 'disloyal risk'—the entire estate reverts to a trust controlled by the board of directors. Specifically, Mara."
Ria's eyes narrowed. "So if they annul our marriage, you lose the ranch, the mills, everything?"
"I lose everything," Trace confirmed, looking up at her. "I become a penniless guest on my own land. That's why Mara brought me home yesterday with such venom. She didn't just see an Apache girl; she saw a loophole she could exploit to steal the entire enterprise."
Ria leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. Her mind was racing, connecting the dots of history, family greed, and frontier law. "And how long do we have until that five-year window closes?"
"Three months," Trace said grimly.
Ria studied his face, seeing the heavy burden he had carried alone for years. "Why didn't you tell me this before we left Dust Hollow? Why let me walk into this blind?"
"Because," Trace said, his voice dropping into a register of raw vulnerability, "if I told you that marrying me meant stepping into a courtroom war against my entire family, you would have stayed behind out of pride. You would have let your family starve rather than be a burden to someone else's war."
Ria didn't deny it. He was right. Back in Dust Hollow, her pride was all she had left.
"You think very clearly for a cowboy," Ria said quietly, a faint ghost of amusement in her dark eyes.
Trace managed a tired smile. "I had a good teacher. My mother taught me how to read people before my father taught me how to read timber yields." He reached across the desk, sliding a small, leather-bound diary toward her. "This belonged to my mother. She kept it during her first years here—when Silas was building the empire and she was just a young woman from Ohio trying to figure out how to survive in a house made of stone and suspicion."
Ria picked up the diary. The leather was soft, worn smooth by a woman's hands decades ago. She opened to a marked page, her eyes scanning the faded cursive.
“Silas thinks power is measured in acreage,” the diary read. “He doesn't understand that a house divided against itself will rot from the inside out. I pray our son finds someone who loves the land, not the ledger.”
Ria traced the words with her fingertip. A strange, heavy warmth settled in her chest. She wasn't the first outsider to walk through these heavy oak doors with a target on her back.
"She knew what Mara was," Ria whispered.
"She knew," Trace agreed. "And she left that book for me. Or for whoever came after me." He looked straight into Ria's eyes. "My mother would have liked you, Ria. She wouldn't have cared about the board, or the charter, or what Mara thinks. She would have seen a woman who knows how to survive a harsh winter."
Before Ria could answer, a sharp knock rattled the library door.
Martha pushed it open, her face pale and urgent.
May you like
"Mr. Trace," Martha said, breathless. "Mr. Vance is back. And he's not alone. He brought the territorial sheriff and two deputies with a writ of attachment for the main estate."
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