Chapter 6: The Journal My Father Hid
The room felt smaller than I remembered.
Maybe because everything inside it had changed.
The same walls.
The same furniture.
The same old wooden table where my father used to sit every evening.
But now, the place felt like a crime scene.
The stranger standing near the desk held my father’s journal in his hands.
A small, worn book with a brown leather cover.
I knew every scratch on it.
My father carried that journal for years.
He wrote in it every night.
When he died, I searched for it.
I searched everywhere.
It was gone.
I thought someone had stolen it.
I never imagined it had been hidden inside my own house.
The man looked at me.
“Your father was careful.””
I raised my rifle.
“Put it down.””
He smiled.
“You sound exactly like him.””
Those words stopped me.
“How do you know my father?””
The man looked at the journal.
“Because I knew what he was trying to protect.””
Aiyana entered behind me.
Her eyes locked onto the book.
“Who are you?””
The man ignored her.
Instead, he opened the journal.
Slowly.
Like he wanted us to see.
“There are years of information inside this book.””
He flipped through pages.
“Names. Locations. Agreements.””
My eyes narrowed.
“Why are you showing us?””
“Because I want you to understand.””
He looked at me.
“Your father was not just a rancher.””
The words struck deeper than I expected.
My whole life, my father had been simple.
Quiet.
A man who fixed fences and taught me how to ride.
A man who never talked about power or secrets.
The stranger continued.
“He spent years protecting people from those who believed everything could be bought.””
Aiyana stepped forward.
“You are one of those people.””
The man smiled.
“I am a person who understands reality.””
“No.””
Her voice was cold.
“You are a person who hides greed behind excuses.””
The man ignored her.
He looked back at me.
“Your father made a mistake.””
“What mistake?””
“He trusted the wrong people.””
The room went silent.
My mind immediately went to Thomas.
The years of friendship.
The conversations.
The questions.
The lies.
“What happened to him?””
The stranger’s expression changed slightly.
“Your father died before he could finish what he started.””
My grip tightened.
“You expect me to believe that?””
“No.””
He closed the journal.
“I expect you to read it yourself.””
He placed the book on the desk.
Then he stepped backward.
Aiyana noticed something before I did.
“He is leaving.””
I looked at the man.
“Why?””
The stranger smiled.
“Because the journal was never the secret.””
My chest tightened.
“What does that mean?””
He looked toward the floor.
“The secret is what your father buried beneath this ranch.””
Aiyana’s face changed.
She understood something.
“What did he hide?””
The stranger reached the doorway.
“Something that proves your father was right.””
Then he disappeared.
I ran after him.
By the time I reached the porch, he was gone.
Only hoofprints remained in the dirt.
Outside, the entire valley was moving.
The warriors were watching the hills.
The armed men near the eastern ridge were gone.
And Thomas…
Thomas was nowhere.
I turned back toward the house.
Aiyana stood near the doorway.
Her eyes were on the journal.
“You should open it.””
I hesitated.
Because part of me was afraid.
Not of what enemies wanted.
Not of the armed men.
Not even of the secret.
I was afraid of learning that the man I spent my entire life admiring had hidden an entire world from me.
I opened the journal.
The first pages were normal.
Dates.
Notes.
Weather.
Ranch repairs.
Then I reached a page near the middle.
And froze.
There was a drawing.
A map.
Of my land.
But not the ranch as I knew it.
There were markings beneath the property.
Hidden tunnels.
Old structures.
And one location circled in red.
A note was written beside it.
My father’s handwriting.
The words were simple.
But they changed everything.
*“If they ever find this place, Corvin must know the truth about his mother.””*
I stared at the sentence.
My mother.
A woman I barely remembered.
A woman everyone told me died when I was young.
A woman my father never spoke about.
My hands started shaking.
I looked at Aiyana.
She saw my face.
“What is it?””
I could barely speak.
“My father wrote about my mother.””
Aiyana stepped closer.
“What did he say?””
I looked back at the journal.
Below the sentence was another line.
May you like
One that made the entire world beneath my feet feel like it had shifted.
*“She did not leave us. They took her.””*
