“His father's criminal activities.”
Elena stepped forward.
“My husband is innocent.”
Cole sighed.
“Mrs. Marlowe, we've discussed this.”
“No, Sheriff. You threatened me. You refused to let me see my son, and you told me that my husband had to return money he never stole.”
Cole's smile disappeared.
“Be careful what you say.”
Samuel moved between them.
“Answer my question. Where is Daniel?”
Cole leaned back in his chair.
“Why are you involved in this matter?”
“Because your prisoner may possess information about fraudulent land transfers involving my property.”
The sheriff's expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Samuel saw it.
“I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about,” Cole said.
Samuel placed the forged letter on the desk.
“Do you recognize this document?”
Cole glanced at it.
“It appears to be a land agreement.”
“It bears my signature.”
“Then perhaps you should consult your attorney.”
“I never signed it.”
Cole folded his hands.
“Are you accusing someone of forgery?”
“I'm asking whether you know anything about the document.”
The sheriff's eyes moved toward the deputies.
Then he looked back at Samuel.
“I have no reason to believe it is fraudulent.”
Elena shook her head.
“Thomas found the original records. He discovered the transfers were illegal.”
Cole stood.
“Your husband stole confidential documents from a private company. He then attempted to extort money by threatening to expose information he did not understand.”
“That is a lie!”
Cole struck the desk with his palm.
“Enough!”
Elena flinched.
Samuel's expression turned dangerous.
“Do not shout at her.”
The room fell silent.
Cole looked at Samuel, then slowly sat down.
“You are welcome to pursue your own property dispute,” he said. “But you have no authority to interfere with a criminal investigation.”
Samuel stepped closer to the desk.
“Then tell me where the boy is.”
Cole's jaw tightened.
“He has been transferred to a secure location.”
“Where?”
“I cannot disclose that information.”
Samuel looked toward the deputies.
“Which one of you transported him?”
Neither man answered.
Samuel recognized Deputy Harris, a thin man who had worked in the sheriff's office for nearly five years. Harris stared at the floor.
The other deputy, a broad-shouldered man named Miller, looked directly at Samuel.
“You should leave, Blackwood.”
Samuel turned toward him.
“Did I ask you a question?”
Miller's hand moved toward his belt.
Cole immediately raised one hand.
“Deputy, stand down.”
Miller stopped.
The sheriff's voice became smoother.
“Samuel, I understand your concern. But this is an official matter. If you interfere, I will have no choice but to consider it obstruction.”
Samuel studied him.
“Then consider this. If a twelve-year-old boy has been taken from his mother to force a man to surrender evidence, your badge will not protect you from the consequences.”
Cole's smile returned.
“You should be careful about making threats.”
Samuel put his hat back on.
“I haven't threatened anyone.”
He turned toward the door.
“I've asked you a question. You refused to answer. That tells me more than you intended.”
Elena followed him outside.
As they reached the street, she looked up at him.
“What do we do now?”
Samuel watched the sheriff's office through the open doorway.
“We find out where your son is.”
“How?”
He turned toward the general store.
“By asking someone who doesn't work for the sheriff.”
Chapter 4: The Boy at the Abandoned Schoolhouse
Samuel knew a man who could find information in Red Hollow faster than most people could spread a rumor.
His name was Caleb Turner.
Caleb owned the general store and had lived in the settlement since its earliest days. He was sixty-eight years old, with a broad face, silver hair, and a habit of appearing completely uninterested in conversations that he remembered in extraordinary detail.
He had also served as a deputy sheriff many years earlier.
He left the job after discovering that several officials had been accepting money from cattle thieves. When his complaints were ignored, he resigned and opened his store.
People assumed he had given up on public affairs.
In reality, Caleb had simply learned to listen from behind a counter.
Samuel entered the store with Elena.
Caleb looked up from a ledger.
“Blackwood,” he said. “You look like a man who has brought trouble to my doorstep.”
“Only the usual amount.”
Caleb glanced at Elena.
“And who is this?”
“Elena Marlowe. Her son has been taken by the sheriff.”
Caleb closed the ledger.
“Then we'd better speak in the back.”
He led them into a small office behind the store and shut the door.
Elena explained what had happened.
Caleb listened without interrupting, occasionally asking for a date or a name. When she finished, he rubbed his chin.
“I saw Deputy Harris this morning,” he said. “He purchased rope, a lantern, and two cans of lamp oil.”
Elena's face tightened.
“Why would he need those things?”
“I don't know. But he bought them shortly before two men from Price's company drove out of town.”
Samuel looked at him.
“Which direction?”
“North. Toward the old schoolhouse.”
The abandoned schoolhouse stood several miles beyond the settlement, near an unused stagecoach road. It had been closed after a larger school was built closer to the railway.
Samuel had not visited the place in years.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
Caleb nodded.
“I saw the wagon. It belonged to Gideon Price's foreman.”
Elena stood.
“We have to go there.”
Samuel held up a hand.
“Not yet.”
She looked at him in disbelief.
“My son could be in danger!”
“And if we ride directly toward the schoolhouse, whoever is watching him will know we're coming.”
Caleb nodded.
“Samuel is right. If Cole has put the boy there, the place is probably being watched.”
Elena's hands trembled.
“Then what do we do?”
Samuel looked at Caleb.
“Can you get us a second horse and a wagon?”
“Of course.”
“And I need you to send a message to the ranch. Tell my foreman to bring two men I trust to the northern road. No uniforms, no weapons displayed.”
Caleb raised an eyebrow.
“Planning to start a war?”
“No.”
Samuel looked toward the window.
“Planning to stop one before it starts.”
Within an hour, they left town.
Samuel rode ahead with Elena. Caleb followed in a wagon carrying blankets, water, and a small first-aid kit.
They approached the schoolhouse from the west, using a dry creek bed that concealed their movement.
The building stood in a clearing surrounded by mesquite trees. Its roof had partially collapsed, and the paint had peeled from the wooden walls.
A wagon was parked behind it.
Samuel dismounted and examined the ground.
Fresh footprints led from the wagon to the rear entrance.
He recognized the pattern of the boots.
One set belonged to a man who worked for Gideon Price.
Another belonged to Deputy Harris.
Samuel looked at Elena.
“Stay here with Caleb.”
“No.”
“Mrs. Marlowe—”
“My son is inside.”
“I know. And if something goes wrong, I need you to be able to reach help.”
Elena stared at him.
For a moment, Samuel thought she would argue again.
Then she nodded reluctantly.
He moved toward the schoolhouse.
The rear door was unlocked.
Inside, the building smelled of dust and dry wood. Broken desks lay scattered across the floor. Sunlight entered through cracks in the walls, illuminating particles of dust drifting through the air.
Samuel heard a sound from the next room.
A child was crying.
He followed it.
Daniel Marlowe sat on the floor beside a wooden desk. His hands were tied loosely in front of him, and a blanket had been placed around his shoulders.
A man stood near the window.
Deputy Harris.
Harris turned when Samuel entered.
His face went pale.
“Blackwood.”
Samuel kept his hands away from his belt.
“Untie the boy.”
Harris glanced toward the door.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“Untie him.”
“I have orders.”
“From whom?”
Harris hesitated.
Samuel stepped forward.
“From the sheriff or from Gideon Price?”
Harris looked down.
That was answer enough.
Daniel raised his head.
“Are you here to take me home?”
Samuel looked at the boy.
“Yes.”
Harris swallowed.
“You don't understand. If I let him go, Cole will arrest me.”
Samuel stared at him.
“If you keep him here, you'll have to explain why you helped kidnap a child.”
“I didn't kidnap him. I was told he was being held for questioning.”
“Then why are his hands tied?”
Harris looked at the rope.
His shoulders sagged.
“I was told he might run.”
Samuel's voice remained calm.
“He's twelve years old.”
Harris had no answer.
After a long moment, he took a small knife from his belt and cut the rope.
Daniel stood and hurried toward Samuel.
The cowboy placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.
“Are you hurt?”
Daniel shook his head.
“No. They said my father stole money. They said if I didn't tell them where he was, they would keep me here.”
Samuel's expression hardened.
“Did you tell them anything?”
“No. I don't know where he is.”
“Good.”
Daniel looked toward the doorway.
“Is my mother here?”
“She is outside.”
The boy's face changed.
“Can I see her?”
Samuel nodded.
“Of course.”
He led Daniel toward the door.