CHAPTER 30: A LETTER WITH NO SIGNATURE
On the fifth day of their visit, a letter arrived without a return address.
The postmark was from a Louisiana river town near Oakwood.
Josiah opened it at the kitchen table while Ruth watched his hands.
The message contained only four lines, written in careful block letters.
Someone had copied the names from Abel’s notebook and was asking for payment to keep the pages from being destroyed.
The letter gave a location near the old ferry landing and a date three weeks away.
It threatened to publish the names of people who had helped remove the original ledger.
Josiah read the words twice before handing them to Ruth.
She recognized an attempt to turn their efforts into a danger for everyone who remained behind.
Miriam asked whether Abel was safe.
Josiah could not answer.
The last letter from Abel had described a disagreement with the estate steward over access to the book room.
He had said nothing about threats.
Ruth wanted to send a warning immediately.
Esther advised them to keep the original envelope and copy the message before any reply left the house.
Josiah agreed because he had learned how easily a frightened person could be led toward a place chosen by someone else.
He asked Esther whether she knew a lawyer who would examine the letter without charging more than the family could afford.
She suggested a clerk named Samuel Reed, who had helped several families challenge disputed wage agreements.
Samuel arrived the next evening carrying a worn leather portfolio.
He read the letter in silence and examined the handwriting.
“I cannot tell you who wrote this,” he said.
“I can tell you the person wants you to act quickly and privately.”
He recommended contacting Abel through an established intermediary and not traveling to the ferry.
Josiah admitted that the letter had already made him want to leave before sunrise.
Samuel told him that fear was exactly the response the writer expected.
Ruth asked whether silence would put Abel at greater risk.
“Silence is not our plan,” Samuel said.
“We will make inquiries through people who do not depend on a single messenger.”
He offered to send copies to two contacts who had previously handled records from the disputed trust.
Josiah placed the envelope in Miriam’s wooden box beside the unanswered letters.
The room that had held six years of patient searching now held a new uncertainty.
He had wanted the reunion to mark the end of danger from Oakwood.
Instead, someone in Louisiana still believed the family could be controlled with a scrap of paper.
