Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 225

Chapter 225: Fancy running into you here
Ford was hobbling to his room to get the map out of his possessions, mentally cursing and wondering how much he could memorize from it in case Trace decided to destroy what had become his most prized possession.

Of course, if all went well, it wouldn’t be his most prized possession for long. Whatever precious treasures he found in the cave would be.

He dug the map out of his bag and ran his eyes over it, trying to memorize the intertwining system of canyons, and then the cave itself as much as he could. If he delayed too long, he knew they would come looking for him, so he left his room with a heavy sigh to rejoin the men.

As he exited the doorway, however, a fleeing figure crashed into him.

The tumble was far quieter than it should have been, leaving Ford sucking in a nearly-silent breath of pain.

Mia was sprawled across him, their limbs entangled.

“Sorry,” Mia whispered to him, her face alarmed. There were tears streaking down it. She was pale and borderline panicked. “I’m so sorry.”

A silent sob wracked her body. She was so distraught that she didn’t even seem flustered by the fact that she was pressed against him. She scrambled up and used the back of her hands to furiously scrub her face of tears before she offered one of them to help him up.

He’d never seen her like this.

Ford wanted to refuse her hand, and grumble while he got himself up, in pain, but she’d unintentionally piqued his curiosity. The last words he’d heard from her before she entered the kitchen were about Martin, and now, so short a time later, to be this out of sorts?

He put his hand in hers, and she helped pull him to his feet and right his crutch. She was stronger than he expected. Did farm chores have that much effect on a slim woman like her?

“Sorry,” She whispered again before fleeing out the front door of the house, tears spilling over once more.

He was bewildered. Mystified, even. The front door closed quietly behind her when it looked like it should have slammed. He blinked in confusion.

The map was on the floor, where he’d dropped it. Bending down with the crutch and his splinted leg was difficult, and he frowned at the piece of paper.

“May I have some help?” He called towards the dining room, and Trace was the first one to come down the hall.

“What’s wrong?” He asked with a worried expression.

“I… dropped it,” Ford omitted the reason why. “It’s hard to bend down.”

Trace snatched up the paper and looked at it carefully. His jaw worked with emotion, and his eyes tightened before they snapped to Ford’s face.

“What do you understand from this?” He demanded. Grandpa came forward to put his hand on the man’s shoulder and look at the map Trace held.

“Pardon?” Ford blinked. Sure, the imagery was a bit strange, but what else could a tree laden with jewels mean but a treasure trove?

“Tell me why you were going to the place this map shows,” Trace tried again, with a slight edge to his tone.

“I… want to be rich.” Ford made a face. “Is that so bad? Martin’s dead, so he can’t use jewels or gold or wealth any more. He left everything he had to me, so doesn’t that include his hidden treasure?”

The argument came out more cohesive than Ford anticipated, and he was proud of it. If he looked at it that way, he wasn’t a treasure hunter, he was merely setting out to collect what rightfully belonged to him!

His chin tilted up, and he held eye contact with Trace’s probing gaze.

The man looked slightly confused.

“You want to go here because you want to be rich?” He clarified.

“Yes,” Ford replied evenly, though he grew less confident about it with every passing second. Could he have misinterpreted the map?

“What exactly do you think is here?” Trace pointed to the tree.

Ford hesitated. “It looks like jewels to me. I grew up poor, but I’m not afraid to go underground. I see that it’s deep, but I can make it, especially once my leg’s healed up. If it’s a matter of wanting your share—”

Trace shook his head. “You can’t go there. Give it up.”

“Sir, you underestimate–”

“I underestimate nothing. The cave entrances were forcibly collapsed long ago. Since you tell us Martin’s dead, there’s no way for you to get in there. Give up this foolish quest and move on with your life. Mention it to no one. He warned you that there are secrets in this country people kill for. You’ve got part of one, and it’s best you forget it entirely.”

Trace’s speech, which seemed passionate at first glance, filled Ford with a deep dissatisfaction.

“That’s easy for you to say. You have everything you could ever need. Wealth, titles, magic! It’s all yours. Some of us have nothing. Even a few jewels could change my life forever, make it so I never starve! I… I bet you just want all of the money for yourself! Telling me stories to make me give it up, so you can go and take all of it!”

The rant felt righteous. To tell this man, this Countess’s husband, what he really thought! It was a moment of glory he would remember.

Seth shook his head and turned away. Grandpa looked like he might be hiding a smirk.

Trace turned and walked towards the sitting room, where the evenings were usually spent around a fire talking before everyone retired to bed.

Ford limped after him, flinching at the pain in his leg. It was mostly healed now, but that fall with Mia had probably bruised it.

As Trace entered the room, it was clear that the women had already built a fire. The children were looking into the flames when Trace strode up and shoved the map into them. Ford lunged forward.

“NO!”