Those alterations affected more than my cabin.
They concerned land that later passed to families, ranchers, and settlers throughout the valley.
Silas Calder, Roland's son, now controlled the company that wanted to extend its operations north.
If he relied on the same disputed claims, he might pressure several landholders into selling for less than their property was worth.
The documents weren't automatically enough to settle every legal question.
Twenty-year-old records required authentication.
Witnesses might be dead.
And subsequent transactions could complicate the ownership history.
But the papers gave us a reason to seek an independent review.
Josephine understood that better than I did.
She had spent years studying her father's notes.
She knew which names appeared repeatedly.
And she remembered a reference to a former county clerk who had helped prepare the original records.
A man named Micah Cole.
I stared at the name.
I'd known Micah.
He was an older schoolteacher and occasional clerk near Red Willow.
For years, I'd believed he died after leaving the settlement.
Josephine shook her head.
"He moved south. My aunt wrote that he was still alive ten years ago."
I looked toward the mountains.
If Micah remained alive, he might be able to confirm what the documents represented.
And that could change the entire dispute.
We began preparing to travel.
The roads remained difficult, but the lower route was opening.
I inspected Josephine's wagon carefully, checked the wheel hubs, and reinforced the seat supports once more.
She helped plan the journey.
We identified the nearest settlements where a proper wagon stop might be possible.
We arranged food, water, blankets, and sheltered places where she could rest.
I didn't want to repeat the recklessness of her winter trip.
Neither did she.
When I suggested leaving her behind while I searched for the clerk, she looked at me as though I'd proposed selling Copper for dog meat.
"No."
I frowned.
"Josephine, the trip will be hard."
She nodded.
"I know."
"There could be trouble."
"I know that too."
I looked toward her.
She smiled.
"These are my father's records, Hiram. I spent years trying to understand them."
I sighed.
She continued.
"I won't be left in the cabin while men decide what his work means."
I looked toward the map.
For several seconds, I considered arguing.
Then I remembered how much it meant to her to direct her own life.
I nodded.