Part 34 (2/2)

Ren shook her head as she sank into a chair at the table. ”I think Eve's sent us on a wild-goose chase.”

Summer exchanged a look with Ren and thought of indomitable spirits and intrepid hearts. She fought back her own despair and said, ”The note is here somewhere. And come hail or high water, we're going to find it!”

They were almost done with supper when they were surprised by a knock on the screen door.

”Who could that be?” Summer said, leaning around Billy to see.

Emma crossed to the screen door and stood there without opening it.

”Who is it?” Ren asked.

Emma stepped back as Sam rolled his wheelchair into the kitchen. ”Mom called and told me you could use some more help with the search,” he said.

Summer was astonished by the appearance of Sam Creed. There was no one who had more reason to hate the Blackthornes. She didn't understand what he was doing here.

Until she saw the byplay between Sam and his mother and Emma.

”If you've come here to cause Emma any trouble, you can leave now,” Billy said.

”I'm not here to cause trouble for anyone,” Sam said. ”I came to help.”

”Why would you want to help my father?” Summer said.

”Because whether I like it or not, what hurts Blackjack hurts my mother. And I don't want to see her in pain.”

That made sense. ”We can use the help,” Summer admitted.

”You're still in time for supper,” Ren said. ”Find yourself a place at the table. Emma's made us some corn m.u.f.fins and chili.”

Summer could hardly believe what she was seeing as she looked around the table. Enemies sitting together, sharing food and conversation.

”Why don't you show Sam the letter?” Emma suggested to Summer. ”He's smart about things like that.”

”All right,” Summer said. Will was lying in her arms, drinking a bottle and playing with his hair, almost asleep. ”It's in my back pocket. Billy, can you get it?”

She angled her hip and Billy pulled out the letter she'd been carrying around with her. Summer watched it pa.s.s from hand to hand down the length of the kitchen table until it reached Sam.

”This part about the land is important,” Sam said, tapping the letter with his finger.

Summer looked at Ren, who said, ”Jackson said the same thing.”

”She mentions the Blackthornes never having enough of it. Didn't your mother bring a portion of DeWitt land with her when she married your father?” Sam asked.

”Yes, she did,” Summer said.

”So the Blackthornes would have needed to redraw their property lines to show-”

”Oh, my G.o.d.” Summer jumped up abruptly, jostling Will so his bottle fell onto the floor. Will cried out, and Summer cooed to him in apology, retrieved the bottle, then dropped Will and the bottle both into Billy's hands and said, ”I know where it is!”

Everyone at the table jumped up to follow her, Sam bringing up the rear, as Summer headed into the parlor.

”There,” Summer said, pointing to an aging yellow map hanging over the fireplace that showed the original boundaries of Bitter Creek. ”It's in plain sight, right under our noses, and it's something Daddy has forbidden any of us ever to touch, because the paper behind that gla.s.s is so old it would disintegrate if it were handled. It's Bitter Creek as it was when the first Blackthorne built his home here.”

Billy handed Will to Emma and stepped up onto the low stone wall that surrounded the fireplace so he could reach the map framed above it. The map wasn't large, but the wooden frame, apparently as old as the map itself, was heavy.

Billy stepped down with the framed map and set it on the arm of one of the wing chairs that faced the fireplace, turning it so all of them could see the back of it.

Summer's heart sank as she looked carefully over the wooden backing and found nothing that seemed remotely like it might be a note from her mother.

Billy leaned closer to the map itself and said, ”I think I see something sticking out from under the map, a piece of paper that isn't aged like the rest.”

”Can you get to it?” Summer asked.

”I'd have to separate the map from the backing to see whether it's something... or nothing.”

”I don't give a d.a.m.n about the map,” Summer said. ”You can tear it to shreds for all I care. Just find out what's under it.”

Billy grinned. ”I don't think that's the att.i.tude your mother expected you to have. I think she counted on you wanting to preserve this piece of your heritage badly enough that you'd handle it with velvet gloves and wouldn't look too closely at it.”

Eve had apparently glued the black mat upon which the map was mounted both to the gla.s.s in front and to the quarter-inch plywood that backed the frame, so there was no way to remove the map without breaking the gla.s.s, which would necessarily damage the wafer-thin paper.

”I can't believe Momma glued all this together,” Summer said. ”Or that she left that sc.r.a.p of paper so visible.”

”She promised her clue would be under our noses,” Billy said. ”And she's made sure the map has to be destroyed to get to it.”

Summer gulped. ”What if it's one of those fake notes, like the others we found? And we ruin Daddy's map for nothing.”

”I guess that's a chance you'll have to take.”

Summer glanced at Ren, then turned to Billy and said, ”Go for it.”

”You sure?” Billy asked, as he prepared to break the gla.s.s with the horn handle of the jackknife he carried in his jeans pocket.

Summer nodded, then took a deep breath and held it while Billy broke the gla.s.s. She was still holding her breath as he picked out the shards of gla.s.s and set them carefully in the ash-laden fireplace.

Summer exhaled noisily and said, ”I can't stand the suspense. Is it the letter we've been hunting for, or not?”

The map began disintegrating as Billy tugged at the tiny sc.r.a.p of white paper behind it. But it turned out to be more than a sc.r.a.p. As ragged pieces of the priceless map fluttered to the floor, a sheet of Bitter Creek stationery emerged.

”Oh, G.o.d,” Summer said, tears welling in her eyes. ”We found it.”

”Read it,” Ren said, her voice hoa.r.s.e.

Billy held the vellum in front of him and began reading.

My darling daughter, If you're reading this, I have the satisfaction of knowing that your father has lost at least one thing he holds dear. That map of Bitter Creek was his pride and joy.

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