If you stay in this broken wagon, girl, the night frost will claim you and that unborn child before moonrise.
The territorial land registry office was usually bustling, but tonight it was dark and deserted. A sliver of moonlight filtered through the dusty window, painting the rows of ledgers and maps in muted silver.
Leo Kincaid picked the lock with practiced ease, his movements silent and fluid. He slipped inside, his hunting knife held ready, the leather pouch he used for tools jingling softly at his belt.
He knew Albright’s routine. The notary always kept meticulous records, sometimes working late, sometimes leaving things just a little too accessible. Leo had been watching.
The air inside was stale, smelling of old paper and bureaucratic dust. Leo moved swiftly to Albright’s heavy oak desk, his eyes scanning for anything out of place. He knew the forged deed for my land had been processed quickly. Too quickly.
He found the official seal box, a polished wooden case with a brass clasp. It seemed ordinary, but something about the way it sat on the desk caught his attention. It wasn’t quite centered. A nervous habit, perhaps.
Leo eased open the clasp. Inside, nestled beneath the heavy brass notary seal, was a small, crudely stitched leather pouch. It didn’t belong there. It wasn’t an official document.
He reached in and pulled it out. The pouch was surprisingly heavy. He untied the drawstring.
Inside, glinting dully in the faint moonlight, was a handful of raw river gold dust. Fine, glittering flakes, weighing at least an ounce, perhaps more. $400 worth, easily. A payment.
A direct bribe.
Just as Leo was tying the pouch closed, a floorboard creaked behind him.
“Well, well, well,” a slick voice drawled from the doorway. Jonas Albright stood there, a lantern in one hand, his face a mask of false politeness. “Lost something, Kincaid?”
Albright’s eyes dropped to the pouch in Leo’s hand, then flicked to the open seal box. A muscle twitched in his jaw.
“Trespassing is a serious offense, Kincaid,” Albright said, his voice hardening. “Especially in a government office. I can have you arrested, charged with burglary. You’ll spend a long time in federal prison.”
Leo’s hand tightened around the pouch. He knew he couldn’t afford to be jailed. Martha was alone, pregnant, and vulnerable. He was her only protector.
Albright took a step closer, his gaze predatory. “Leave the pouch. And leave South Pass City. Or you’ll find yourself locked in a cell, and that poor, delusional woman will be entirely at Silas Gable’s mercy.”
The implication hung in the air, a chilling threat. Leo looked from the gold dust, irrefutable proof of Silas’s corruption, to Albright’s smug face. He weighed the risk. He couldn’t help Martha from a jail cell.
With a tight jaw, Leo slowly placed the pouch back into the seal box. He closed the lid. Albright’s smirk widened, victorious.
Leo turned and walked out of the office, Albright’s taunting laugh echoing behind him. The gold dust, the evidence, remained untouched. But Leo knew now how deep Silas’s corruption ran.
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