Page 95 of The Promise
Michael drew in a long breath. "So what you're all trying to say is that Amos Striker either intentionally or accidentally came across the silver, disposed of Zach and our mother, and eventually hid the silver in a tunnel at the Promise."
Cara nodded taking up the story. "And your father found the stash, but before he could tell either of you, Amos figured out and murdered him."
"Mistaking you for Father and almost killing you in the process," Patrick added.
"And then somehow, Amos managed to lose the treasure." Cara concluded.
"Which is where this tale starts to get fanciful." Michael's tone conveyed his skepticism.
"Not necessarily." Cara chewed on her lower lip, thinking about the twenty-first century part of the story. "We know the silver was lost. Nick confirmed it. That's what he was looking for. It all fits."
"So what, my father moved it?"
"It seems possible." Their gazes collided and he sighed.
"The only man with all the answers is Amos Striker. We find him, we'll find the truth. I'll set out first thing in the morning."
Patrick opened his mouth to argue, but Michael stopped him with an I'm-older-than you-look. "You need to head for Silverthread. Someone's got to talk to Owen. If the silver is up there, part of it belongs to him. He deserves to know what's going on."
Patrick reluctantly nodded his agreement. "All right. But as soon as I talk to him, I'm coming up there."
"I'm counting on it."
"I'm coming with you." Cara met Michael's gaze, lifting her chin defiantly.
"No. I want you to stay here where it's safe." Michael held her gaze, the message there perfectly clear.
"In the middle of nowhere, a hundred years before I was born?" Cara ground her teeth together, feeling anger surge through her veins. "I said I was in this to the end, and I meant it. Have you forgotten who it was that shot Joe Ingersoll?"
Michael glared at her, but she knew she'd won. "Fine."
"I'll ride into town with Patrick," Loralee said. "Pete needs to see the doctor."
Michael pushed away from the table. "Then it's a plan. We leave at first light."
"I need to talk to you."Michael stood in the doorway, his hand resting against the doorframe, his stance deceptively casual.
Cara looked up from the shirt she was mending, her stomach churning at the look in his eyes. "About Striker?"
"No, Cara. About us. About what happens after all of this is over."
She stared down at the needle, willing her fingers to stop shaking. "Maybe this isn't the right time, Michael."
He sat on the bed beside her, taking the sewing out of her hands. "There will never be arighttime, sweetheart. And I've always been a man to speak my mind."
She nodded, still unable to look at him, her heart thudding against her chest.
He gently cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze. "I love you, Cara." His eyes reflected his words, and her breath caught in her throat. "I think maybe I always have. Since that night I found you in the snow. But I didn't know for certain until this morning, when I almost lost you in the tunnel."
"Michael… I?—"
"Wait." He laid a finger against her lips. "Let me finish. I know that you are afraid. Hell, I know better than anyone how you're feeling. Like a fish out of water. But I can make it better. I can make a life for us here. I know I can—if you'll just give me the chance."
She swallowed tears, fighting for control. "I can't Michael. I don't belong here."
"How do you know that?" His eyes searched hers for answers she knew she couldn't give.
"I don't know, I just do." She stood up, walking to the window, trying to sort through her thoughts.
