Eleanor had forgotten most of the details.
After her parents died, Henry insisted the property had been consolidated into the Whitmore holdings.
She never saw the complete records.
Now she examined the map again.
The older survey identified Miriam as the owner of the spring meadow.
Not Thomas.
Not Solomon.
And not the mining company.
Eleanor took a slow breath.
“Caleb, I think Henry lied about something else.”
He looked toward her.
She pointed at the name.
“My mother's family never sold this land.”
Caleb frowned.
“Are you certain?”
“No.”
She looked toward the documents.
“Not yet.”
Then she lifted her eyes.
“But I know where we can find out.”
The first stop on their journey was the little mountain church where they'd married.
Reverend Nathaniel Cross had served the surrounding settlements for more than thirty years. He was sixty-eight, with thin gray hair, a carefully trimmed beard, and a habit of speaking slowly because he believed most problems became worse when people were in too much of a hurry.
His wife, Abigail, managed much of the practical life of the church.
She kept records.
Organized supplies.
Visited sick neighbors.
And knew more about the families living along the mountain roads than nearly any official in the county.
When Caleb and Eleanor arrived, Abigail came outside immediately.
“Merciful heavens. I thought the storm might have trapped you for weeks.”
Eleanor smiled.
“It nearly did.”
Abigail looked toward the wagon.
Then toward Caleb.
“Everyone safe?”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
The older woman studied their expressions.
Then asked, “What happened?”
Caleb glanced toward Eleanor.
She took a breath.
“Mrs. Cross, we need to speak with your husband about some old records.”
Abigail became serious.
“Come inside.”
The church office was small but warm.
Caleb had brought a sturdy portable seat for Eleanor, and Reverend Cross arranged enough space for her to sit comfortably without the awkward apologies she had come to expect in unfamiliar buildings.
The minister listened while they explained the threatening visit.
Then Caleb mentioned Nathaniel Mercer's records.
The older man's expression changed.
For a moment, he stared toward the window.
Then whispered, “So the time has come.”
Caleb went still.
“You knew?”
Reverend Cross nodded slowly.
“Your father came to me before he died.”
Eleanor leaned forward.
“What did he tell you?”
The minister looked toward Caleb.