Chapter 9 - THE RIVAL OF LARAMIE
Word traveled fast across Wyoming that the cold Cattle Baron of Laramie had softened.
While life inside the Thorne manor transformed into one of warmth, laughter, and shared family dinners, trouble was brewing on the political and financial horizon of the territory.
Elias Vance, a ruthless land speculator and mining tycoon from Denver, arrived in Laramie three weeks after the blizzard. Vance had been quietly buying up defaulted mortgages across the county following the Panic of 1893, attempting to seize control of the water rights along the Laramie River.
His ultimate goal was to force Garrett Thorne off his eastern range, cutting off the ranch's access to winter grazing lands.
One afternoon, Vance drove a grand black carriage up the driveway of the Thorne estate, accompanied by a slick attorney carrying a leather briefcase.
Garrett met them on the front porch, standing tall in his leather coat, his hands resting casually on his belt. Sarah stood inside the foyer, watching through the side windows, her stomach tight with worry.
"Thorne!" Elias Vance called out, stepping off the carriage. He was a small, round man with a waxed mustache and a flashy diamond pin on his cravat. "I come bearing business."
"You're on my land, Vance," Garrett said coldly. "State your business and get off."
Vance smiled, pulling a stack of legal documents from his attorney's bag. "I currently hold the mortgage notes for the three properties bordering your eastern water line. Including the small homestead previously owned by a Mr. Thomas Miller."
Inside the foyer, Sarah gasped quietly. Thomas's old cabin.
"Thomas Miller owed four hundred dollars to the Laramie bank before he died," Vance continued smugly. "I bought that debt, Thorne. And according to territorial law, I have the right to claim the adjoining access roads to satisfy the lien. Which means your cattle can no longer cross the river to reach the eastern pasture."
Vance stepped up to the porch steps, his eyes gleaming with malicious triumph. "Unless, of course, you sell me the water rights for ten cents on the dollar."
Garrett's jaw set like granite. "That debt belonged to Thomas Miller."
"And his widow," Vance sneered. "I believe she's currently working here as your kitchen servant? A sturdy woman, from what I hear. Tell her to hand over the deed to the cabin, or I'll have the territorial marshal evict her and take every asset she owns."
Before Garrett could speak, the heavy oak front door swung open.
Sarah stepped out onto the porch. She was not hiding. She wore her mustard yellow dress, her apron white and immaculate, her head held high.
"I am Sarah Miller," she said, her voice echoing clearly across the stone courtyard. "And you won't be taking a single acre of my husband's land, Mr. Vance."
Vance laughed patronizingly. "My dear woman, you don't have four hundred dollars to your name. You're a penniless housekeeper."
Garrett stepped smoothly in front of Sarah, his massive frame completely blocking Vance's view of her. He pulled a heavy leather bank pouch from his coat pocket and tossed it hard against Elias Vance's chest.
Vance caught it awkwardly, almost stumbling backward.
"There's six hundred dollars in gold coin in that bag, Vance," Garrett said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, lethal rumble. "Four hundred for Thomas Miller's debt, and two hundred for your trouble. The deed to that cabin is now held in full by Sarah Vance—formerly Miller. And if I see your carriage near my river again, I won't use money to settle the account."
Vance stared at the bag of gold, his face turning red with humiliation. He looked at Garrett, then at Sarah, realizing he had underestimated both of them.
"You're making a mistake, Thorne!" Vance spat, scrambling back into his carriage. "A cattle baron backing a dead farmer's widow! You'll regret this!"
"Get off my land," Garrett repeated softly.
As the carriage sped away down the snowy driveway, Sarah stepped up beside Garrett, tears glittering in her dark eyes. "Garrett... six hundred dollars? I can't repay you for that..."
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Garrett turned to her, reaching out to gently take both of her hands in his.
"You don't owe me a cent, Sarah," Garrett murmured, his eyes full of tenderness. "You gave me back my life. That's worth more than all the gold in Wyoming."
