Not stupidity.
The barn door hung open.
Inside, tack scattered.
Feed barrel overturned.
Nothing valuable missing.
Then she understood.
They were searching.
Not stealing.
Thomas's papers.
Or Elias's case.
Clara looked toward the cabin.
The papers were under her mattress.
The dispatch case was with Elias.
She saddled the mare before dawn and rode to town.
Not to Elias.
To the sheriff.
The sheriff listened.
Recorded.
Did not promise.
Clara expected little.
When Elias returned two days later, he found her repairing the barn latch.
“You should have sent word.”
She kept hammering.
“I handled it.”
“I know.”
That stopped her.
Elias continued.
“Sheriff sent the report.”
“You aren't angry?”
“I am furious.”
“At me?”
“No.”
Clara resumed hammering.
“Good.”
He took off his coat.
“Need help?”
“Yes.”
One word.
It mattered.
Elias held the board while she drove the nails.
Silas came on February twenty-seventh.
This time alone.
Clara met him on the porch.
Elias remained inside.
At Clara's request.
Silas looked confident.
“Two days.”
“I can count.”
“Still no receipt?”
“No.”
“I can postpone filing.”
“Why?”
“New terms.”
Clara waited.
“Sell me the western forty.”
“No.”
“It clears the debt.”
“There is no debt.”
“Then produce proof.”
“Produce your original note.”
Silas smiled.
“I have it.”
“Show me.”
His expression changed slightly.
“Why?”
“Because Thomas marked every debt paper with his thumb seal.”
Silas stared.
Clara invented that.
Completely.
Thomas had done no such thing.
Silas did not know that.
“If your note is genuine, show it.”
“I don't carry legal instruments through snow.”
“Then bring it tomorrow.”
Silas looked toward the house.
“Your soldier inside?”
“My business.”
“I heard he works for federal procurement.”
Clara said nothing.
Silas smiled.
“There are rumors.”
“There are always rumors.”
“Some men come into valleys carrying questions.”
“Some leave carrying nothing.”
Clara looked at him.
“Is that a threat?”
“No.”
“A warning.”
She smiled.
“Poorly phrased.”
Silas leaned closer.
“Give me Thomas's records.”
Clara's heart slammed.
She did not move.
“What records?”
His eyes confirmed everything.
Too late.
Silas knew.
“Don't.”
He shook his head.
“Thomas was obsessed.”
“Wrote everything.”
“Half of it nonsense.”
“Give it to me.”
“And the farm?”
“Free and clear.”
There.
Admission without admission.
Clara breathed.
“So there is no debt.”