Rosalie looked at Gideon.
“The old mill?”
He nodded.
We go tomorrow.
They left before sunrise.
The old mill stood three miles from the ranch.
It had been abandoned for years.
Snow covered the roof.
The machinery inside had rusted.
Rosalie held
the lantern while Gideon searched beneath the floorboards.
He finally found a loose plank.
Beneath it was a metal box.
Inside were letters.
Ledgers.
A small glass jar.
And a photograph.
Rosalie lifted the photograph.
Three men stood beside a wooden building.
One was Gideon’s father.
One was Dr.
Vale.
The third man was unfamiliar.
Rosalie turned the photograph over.
A name was written on the back.
Silas Ashford.
Her father’s name.
Rosalie’s breath caught.
“No.”
Gideon looked at her.
She stared at the photograph.
Her father was young.
Maybe twenty-five.
Standing beside Gideon’s father.
Smiling.
She turned toward Gideon.
