Solid. Solid. He reached the wall behind the bed, the darkest corner of the room. He tapped a log at waist height. Thunk.
The sound was different. Hollow. Jonah drew his knife. He dug the tip into a knot in the wood. It wasn't a knot.
It was a plug cleverly carved to fit the grain. He worked it loose and pulled. A section of the log hollowed out from the inside. Came away. Inside the cavity was a metal biscuit tin.
Millie's breath hitched. She moved to his side as he pulled the tin out. It was heavy, sealed with beeswax to keep out the damp. Jonah set it on the table and used his knife to pry the lid. Inside lay a thick leather ledger and a stack of loose papers, some stained with dark rusty smudges that looked like dried blood.
Millie reached for the ledger. Her hands trembled as she opened it. It is his handwriting. she whispered. "Etienne's," she began to read, her eyes scanning the columns of numbers and the notes written in the margins. "He wrote it all down," she said, her voice rising in disbelief.
Every load of timber Pritchard stole from the federal lands, every bribe paid to the sheriff. "He has dates, amounts, names. " She turned the page to the very end. "The ink was different here: hurried, jagged. " September 12th. Millie read aloud. Pritchard came to the cabin himself.
Offered me $5,000 for the deed. I told him to go to hell. He laughed. Said he would take it one way or another. He had men in the trees.
I saw them. Millie stopped. She touched the page. If I am found dead, she read it was Pritchard. He means to bury the truth with me.
He knows about the silver. The silence in the room was absolute. This was not just evidence of theft. It was a voice from the grave pointing a finger at a murderer. Then Millie picked up the loose papers.
She stared at the dark stains on the corners. He was bleeding when he hid this. She whispered, "He didn't die in a hunting accident. He came back here. He hid this while he was dying.
A memory slammed into her. Violent and sudden. " She gripped the table, her knuckles white. The night he died, Millie said, her voice sounding far away. I was in town. I was waiting for him at the boarding house.