“Caleb?”
“Yes?”
“I don't want to spend the rest of our marriage waiting for Solomon to come back.”
His expression changed.
“I don't either.”
“Then we should go to town.”
He looked toward the trail.
For several seconds, he remained silent.
Then nodded.
“Yes.”
But he knew the journey wouldn't be simple.
Eleanor's size made prolonged travel physically exhausting, and the mountain roads could be dangerous even in good weather. Caleb had prepared a reinforced wagon for bringing her home after the wedding, but the trip down to the settlement would require planning, rest, and careful assessment of the conditions.
He wasn't going to pretend that determination alone could make the journey safe.
Nor would he treat her needs as a reason to exclude her from decisions involving her own property.
They discussed the route.
The weather.
The availability of shelter.
And whether they should first contact her attorney.
Eleanor suggested sending a message ahead so someone trustworthy would know they were coming.
Caleb agreed.
Then he opened the old survey case.
For several hours, they examined the documents together.
The work suited Eleanor.
She'd spent years reading household accounts and land correspondence, even when Henry tried to prevent her from seeing the more important papers.
She understood dates.
Names.
Property boundaries.
And the difference between a record created at the time of an event and a story reconstructed years afterward.
As she worked, something began to bother her.
The documents referred repeatedly to one particular parcel beside the river.
Not the entire Bell property.
A smaller tract.
A strip of meadow adjoining an old diversion channel.
Eleanor leaned closer.
“Caleb.”
He looked up.
“What?”
She pointed toward the map.
“Why is this section marked separately?”
He approached.
For a moment, he studied the lines.
Then frowned.
“My father always said it was important.”
Eleanor looked toward the notes.
The tract was identified as Miriam Bell's Spring Meadow.
Her mother's name.
Eleanor stared.
“That's strange.”
Caleb looked toward her.
“Why?”
“My father owned the ranch, but my mother inherited a separate interest from her parents.”
He nodded slowly.
“I remember seeing a reference to that.”
Eleanor's mind began moving.
Her mother, Miriam Bell, had come from a family that owned land near the old crossing before Thomas acquired the neighboring ranch. The meadow contained a reliable spring and access to the river, rights that had once been essential for irrigation and livestock.