But Josephine stopped me.
"Hiram, please."
I looked toward her.
She held my gaze.
"Your wife spent her last days trying to preserve evidence because she believed the truth mattered."
For a moment, I couldn't answer.
Josephine continued.
"Don't turn that into a fight nobody can document."
I took a slow breath.
She was right.
Eliza hadn't risked everything so I could spend the rest of my life settling scores with my fists.
I owed her better.
And I owed Josephine the chance to complete what she'd traveled so far to begin.
So I agreed to meet Calder with Whitcomb present.
Silas Calder arrived wearing an expensive black coat and a watch chain that glittered beneath the lamplight.
He was thirty-eight, with dark hair, narrow eyes, and the smooth manner of a man accustomed to getting what he wanted without raising his voice.
Slade stood near the door.
Pritchard sat beside him.
Whitcomb was already waiting with us.
The meeting took place in a private room at the boardinghouse.
Calder greeted me politely.
Then turned toward Josephine.
His smile changed.
"Miss Wren."
She inclined her head.
"Mr. Calder."
He looked toward the documents on the table.
"I understand you've been troubling yourself with old family records."
Josephine remained calm.
"They concern property rights."
Calder smiled.
"History is rarely as clear as people imagine."
Whitcomb answered before she could.
"That's why we've requested an independent examination."
For a moment, Calder's expression tightened.
Then he turned toward me.
"Walker, my company can offer you enough money to leave the mountains comfortably."
I looked at him.
"And Josephine?"
He frowned.
"What about her?"
"The land her father surveyed. The records she brought."
Calder looked toward her.
For several seconds, he remained silent.
Then said.
"Miss Wren has been badly advised."
Josephine's expression changed.
She sat straighter.
"No, Mr. Calder."
Her voice was steady.
"I spent years being told that because I was young, a woman, and difficult to accommodate, I couldn't possibly understand documents written by important men."
Calder's smile disappeared.
She continued.
"But I learned to read every line."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then she placed a copy of her father's survey on the table.
"And I learned to recognize when the measurements don't agree."
Calder attempted to dismiss the survey as unreliable.
Whitcomb asked him to identify the specific errors.
Calder spoke generally about historical uncertainty.