Chapter 7 - The Iron Will of Clara Vanderhoof
The courtyard plunged into a deafening silence, broken only by the snorting of the horses in the bitter wind. Clara Vanderhoof took three sharp, clicking steps up the porch stairs, her face contorted with rage beneath her veiled bonnet. She snatched the parchment from Sarah's hands, her eyes darting across the ink.
"This is a sham!" Clara hissed, her voice rising to a shrill pitch. "This woman is an itinerant beggar! A penniless widow who washed up on your doorstep three weeks ago! You expect the territorial courts to recognize a midnight shotgun wedding between a crippled veteran and a gutter tramp?"
"Choose your next words carefully, Aunt Clara," Garrett warned, his voice deadly quiet, his rifle barrel tilting a fraction of an inch upward. "You are speaking to the lady of this house, and the only woman who will ever bear the Thorne name."
Clara laughed bitterly, crumpling her lace gloves in her fists. She leaned toward Sarah, her perfume sickly sweet against the smell of woodsmoke and snow. "You think you’ve won, little girl? You think this broken cripple will save you and your brat? You don't know who you're dealing with. Silas owns the circuit judge. We will tie this fraudulent marriage up in court until you both starve in the cold."
"You don't own the law, Clara," Sarah responded, her eyes burning with an unshakeable calm. "And you certainly don't own us. Silas Vance falsified the emergency debt declaration to bypass the spring assessment. We know about the timber rights contract you signed in secret with the Union Pacific Railroad behind the county’s back."
Silas Vance visibly flinched, his hand trembling as he exchanged a panicked glance with Clara. "How... how could you possibly know about that?" Silas stammered.
"Because the telegraph that arrived last night didn't just come from the governor," Sarah said with icy composure. "It came from the regional land surveyor’s office in Denver. Someone has been reviewing your fraudulent filings for months, Silas."
Clara’s lips thinned into a razor-sharp line. She stared at Sarah with pure hatred, realizing for the first time that this destitute widow was far more dangerous than any soldier Garrett could have hired.
"Deputy," Clara snapped, turning toward the lawman who stood awkwardly by his horse. "Arrest them. Arrest him for threatening us with a firearm!"
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Deputy Higgins looked from Clara's trembling, furious face to Garrett’s steady, hardened gaze, and slowly took a step back. "I can’t do that, Mrs. Vanderhoof. That marriage document has the Governor’s seal on the courier stamp. Touching this house right now is a federal matter. I won't hang for you."
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