I could still feel Slade Kincaid’s hands on my hips as I walked into town hall nearly an hour after I’d left him at the ridge. That shouldn’t have rattled me. Physical reactions were easy enough to dismiss, and I’d gotten good at it over the years. Still, the memory lingered longer than it should have. Not because he’d touched me, but because he’d done it without hesitation. Like he was used to steadying things. Like he expected to be listened to.
I told myself it didn’t mean anything. My body disagreed. I’d learned the hard way that men with charm and influence always landed on their feet. Women took the fall.
Well, he wasn’t the first overly confident stubborn man I’d met in Mustang Mountain, and he wouldn’t be the last. This town seemed to be full of them. Slade just happened to be the first one I couldn’t stop thinking about, and that could turn into a real problem, especially if that marker he’d found buried under the snow turned out to be legitimate.
“Ms. Carter…” Mayor Nelson tugged his winter coat over his shoulders as he passed on his way toward the door. “Did you have any luck out at the Iron Spur Ranch this morning?”
“Yes, sir.” I nodded and tried to keep the heat from racing across my cheeks. It’s not like Mayor Nelson could read my mind. Thank goodness for that. He probably wouldn’t have appreciated the visions of a shirtless Slade Kincaid dancing through my head.
He stopped to zip up the front of his coat. “Was he able to set your mind at ease over that phone call you received?”
“Actually, while I was out there, he showed me a metal marker that predated any documented claim the Kincaids have to that land.”
Mayor Nelson glanced up, and his brows furrowed into a thick bushy line above his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I took a picture. Let me show you.” I peeled off my gloves and pulled my phone out of my bag. I had to scroll past a few shots I’d taken of the view from the ridge before I found the close-up of the metal marker. “Right there. Slade noticed it this morning when he went up to check on the fence line after that storm.”
“Well I’ll be damned.” Mayor Nelson squinted at the screen. “It would be best not to say anything about this until we’ve had a chance to look into it. No use getting everyone in town stirred up over something unless we actually find something worth getting stirred up over.”
“Are you asking me to sit on this information?” The whole reason I’d decided to go into government work was because I was sick and tired of the corruption, especially at the higher levels. If Orville Nelson expected me to let this go, he was going to be very disappointed.
“Of course not. I’m asking you to be discreet. If word gets out about this before we know what to make of it… well, you know that expression about stirring up a hornet’s nest?”
I nodded and tucked my phone back into my purse. Discreet. That word had followed me through two jobs and one resignation. Discreet was what people said when they wanted cooperation without accountability.
“Hornets would be a blessing compared to adding fuel to the bonfire that burns between the Kincaids and the Hollisters.” He pulled on his gloves and shook his head. “I’ve got to meet the missus for lunch, but we’ll talk about this when I get back. Until then, please, for your own sake, keep this to yourself.”
“Okay.” I stood by the door and watched him climb down the steps of town hall and make his way toward the Mercantile where Ruby was probably waiting for him. Though I’d only been in town for a few weeks, I’d heard rumblings about a feud between the two families. Rumor had it things had been quiet for a while, but if the property line was in question, no telling what kind of effect that might have.
I made it to my office, closed the door, and leaned against it for a few moments. Discreet. That was the word he’d used. It always meant the same thing… don’t look too closely. That wasn’t something I was particularly good at.
I crossed the room to my desk and spread my notebook open, flipping to the page where I’d jotted down details from the ridge including coordinates, elevation, the rough location of the marker, the initials, and the date. The more I looked at it, the less it felt like a fluke. Markers didn’t pop up where they didn’t belong. Someone had put it there, and someone had made sure it stayed buried long enough to be forgotten.
Orville might have wanted me to sit on it, but if there was history tied to that ridge, I needed context. And as far as I was concerned, context lived in papers from the past.
I’d visited the town hall archives a couple of times, but they were pretty bare-boned and consisted mostly of modern zoning maps and updated plats. After wolfing down the salad I’d brought from home, I grabbed my coat and headed down the street. Mustang Mountain’s library was small, but I’d already learned it held more than people expected. Small towns tended to pour their secrets into places like that.
As soon as I pushed through the door, warmth wrapped around me, carrying the familiar scent of old books. The woman behind the front desk looked up from behind a thick stack of novels.
“Morgan Carter,” she said, not sounding surprised at all.
I blinked. “Yes?”
She smiled. “You’re the new town planner. I’m Addy Harrison, assistant librarian. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” I said. I’d given up on trying to figure out how everyone in town already seemed to know who I was before I’d ever met them. “I was hoping to look at some older records like land surveys and settlement maps. Anything you have from the early days when Mustang Mountain was settled.”
“That’s not something folks usually come in asking for,” she said as her fingers paused flipping through the pages of a thick book.
“I like to be thorough,” I replied, offering my most professional smile. Mayor Nelson had asked me to keep my discovery to myself for the time being, but he hadn’t said anything about not following through.
Addy studied me for a long moment, like she was wondering the reason behind my request. I’d seen that look before. She was trying to decide if it was safe to trust me. Small towns had long memories, and I was still an unknown variable.
After a few thoughtful seconds, she nodded. “Follow me.”
She led me past the public shelves to a narrow door marked Archives. Inside, the air was cooler and heavier. Metal shelves lined the walls holding boxes labeled in neat handwriting. She pulled one down and set it on a long table.
“These are copies,” she said. “Originals are kept offsite. I’m not sure what you’re looking for, but anything related to the founding of the town should be in this box or the other two on the same shelf if it exists.”
