Judy sat down without being asked.
She placed her handbag on her lap and held it with both hands.
Ron remained standing.
He looked as though he wanted to leave, but the sight of Walter's letter kept him rooted to the floor.
Nate waited for his mother to speak.
She stared at the table.
“Your grandfather didn't trust your father by the end.”
“We know that,” Nate said.
“No. You know what Opal told you. You don't know what happened afterward.”
Opal's expression tightened.
“Then tell him.”
Judy looked at her mother-in-law.
For once, she didn't argue.
“Walter kept records of everything. He wrote down what he spent, what he earned, and what he believed belonged to him.”
Nate nodded toward the notebook.
“We found those records.”
Judy's eyes widened.
“You found the notebook?”
“Yes.”
She looked at Ron.
He gave her a warning glance.
She ignored it.
“Your grandfather believed there was still something he could do to protect the property.”
“What was it?” I asked.
“I don't know exactly.”
Her answer came quickly, almost defensively.
“Walter didn't tell me everything.”
Opal leaned on her cane.
“Yet you knew enough to sign the agreement.”
Judy lowered her eyes.
“I knew about the transfer.”
The admission was so quiet that I nearly missed it.
Nate stared at her.
“You knew what Dad was doing?”
“I knew the company would take ownership.”
“And you signed as a witness.”
“Yes.”
He stepped back.
“Why?”
Judy pressed her fingers against the strap of her handbag.
“Your father told me it was necessary.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“He said Walter couldn't manage the property anymore. He said the land would be lost if we didn't act.”
“Was that true?”
Judy looked at Ron.
He didn't help her.
“I believed him,” she said.
Opal shook her head.
“Did you believe him when he told everyone the property was lost because of unpaid debts?”
Judy's eyes filled.
“I didn't know what to say.”
“You could have told the truth.”
“I was afraid.”
Opal's expression softened for only a moment.
“Of what?”
Judy looked at her husband.
That was answer enough.
Ron turned away from the table.
“This is pointless.”
Nate stepped into his path.
“You don't get to decide that anymore.”
Ron stared at him.
For years, Nate had accepted his father's judgments without making a fight of every disagreement.
He had learned to keep the peace.
He had learned that challenging Ron usually led to an argument that lasted longer than anyone wanted.
Now, standing in the house his grandfather had lost, he seemed to have reached the end of that habit.
“Tell me what was hidden beneath the barn,” Nate said.
Ron shook his head.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
Opal let out a bitter breath.
“Walter told me he had hidden something there so you couldn't get to it.”
Ron's eyes flashed toward her.
“He told you that?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Before he died.”
Ron looked away.
That brief reaction told me more than his denial had.
He knew something about Walter's final plans.
Whether he knew exactly what had been hidden was another question.
I moved toward the window.
The barn doors were still open.
The fresh tire tracks remained visible through the weeds.
“Someone has already been inside,” I said.
Nate joined me.
The barn looked darker from this angle, and I couldn't see the floor clearly.
Ron came up behind us.
“Stay out of there.”
Nate turned.
“Why?”
“Because it's unsafe.”
“You didn't mention safety when you told us to stay away from it before.”
Ron opened his mouth, then closed it.
Judy stood behind him.
“We should go,” she said.
Ron looked at her sharply.
She shook her head.
“Not like this.”
I couldn't tell whether she wanted to leave because she was frightened of what we might discover or because she finally understood that she couldn't keep her family from asking questions forever.
Nate stepped away from the window.
“We're going to inspect the barn.”
His father shook his head.
“You have no idea what you're getting into.”
“Then explain it.”
Ron looked at the letter again.
His voice dropped.
“Your grandfather made decisions that affected more than himself.”
“Like what?”
Ron didn't answer.
I saw Nate's hands tighten at his sides.
He was trying not to let his anger take over.
I understood why.
The temptation to shout at Ron was strong enough that I could feel it myself.
But shouting wouldn't tell us what had happened to the property.
It wouldn't explain the hidden compartment.
And it wouldn't make Judy's signature disappear from Walter's letter.
I took Nate's hand.
“Let's look at the barn first.”
He nodded.
Opal moved toward the kitchen.
“I'll come with you as far as the door.”
Ron stepped forward.
“No.”
Opal turned.
“You don't give me orders.”
“Mother, you shouldn't be walking around that place.”
“Then you can help me.”
He stared at her.
For a moment, I thought he might refuse.
Instead, he looked toward the open doors.
Something about the sight seemed to frighten him more than the idea of Opal going near the barn.
He didn't offer to help her.
He didn't stop her, either.
We went outside together.
The gravel crunched beneath our shoes.
The air smelled of dry weeds and old wood.
Nate walked ahead, looking down at the tire tracks.
They were fresh enough that the flattened grass still showed the direction of travel.
The marks led around the side of the barn and disappeared near the doors.
He crouched beside them.
“Someone drove in here.”
I looked toward the road.
“Could it have been Ron and Judy?”
Nate stood.
“They came in from the front.”
He pointed toward the tracks.
“These go around the back.”
We didn't know when the tracks had been made.
We only knew that someone had approached the barn recently enough to leave clear marks in the weeds.
Nate approached the doors.
One hung crookedly from its hinges.
The other had been pushed far enough open that we could see inside.
The chain he had secured the previous evening lay on the ground.
It hadn't merely slipped free.
The fastening had been disturbed.
Nate picked up the chain and examined it.
“I locked this.”
Opal stood a few feet behind us.
She looked at the barn without moving.
“Walter used to keep his tools in there,” she said.
Nate glanced at her.
“Did he ever show you anything beneath it?”
“No.”
She paused.
“He told me only that I would understand when the time came.”
I looked through the opening.
Dust covered the floor, and old equipment stood against the walls.
The barn smelled of damp timber and rust.
There were no obvious signs of what Walter might have hidden.
Nate didn't go farther inside.
Instead, he studied the ground near the entrance.
A section of weeds had been pressed flat, and there were marks in the dust where something heavy might have been moved.
I couldn't tell what had made them.
Neither could he.
“Let's not touch anything yet,” I said.
Nate nodded.
We backed away from the opening.
Ron had followed us outside, but he stayed near the house.
Judy stood beside him.
Neither came closer.
I looked at them and understood that whatever we found, the truth would not be simple.
Walter had trusted his son.
Ron had transferred the property.
Judy had witnessed the agreement.
Opal had remained silent.
And now someone had entered the barn before we could investigate it ourselves.
Nate turned toward his father.
“Did you come here before today?”
Ron looked at him.
“No.”
“Did Mom?”
“No.”
Nate waited.
Ron held his gaze.
“I told you what I know.”
It wasn't much of an answer.
But it was an answer we could remember.
We returned to the house without going farther into the barn.
Inside, Nate placed the chain on the kitchen table beside the old survey.
He looked at the small rectangle marked beneath the barn.
Then he looked at the photographs on my phone.
“We need to keep records of everything,” he said.
I nodded.
This time, we wouldn't rely on anyone else's account of what had happened.
Source: dailytruthhub.com
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: We Stopped Treating the Farmhouse as a Lucky Purchase and Began Looking at the Records Walter Had Left for His Family
We Spent Two Years Saving for a House Nobody Wanted, Never Knowing Why My Husband’s Grandmother Was Afraid of What We Had Bought
Part 6 of 8
