Sarah saw the change.
No panic.
Something harder.
“What does he want?”
“North boundary.”
Thomas stood.
“There is no north boundary dispute.”
“He brought a new survey.”
Sarah put down her fork.
Thomas turned toward the study.
Sarah followed.
He looked back.
“You don't need—”
“Where is the original survey?”
Thomas stopped.
Then pointed.
“Second drawer.”
Sarah found it.
Two witnesses.
Territorial surveyor.
Boundary clearly defined.
She remembered another document.
A deed registration.
County seal.
Sarah searched.
Found it.
Thomas watched.
“You know what that is?”
“Yes.”
“You found it when?”
“Last week.”
“You remember every file?”
“Most.”
“That's unsettling.”
“Useful today.”
They carried the documents to the gate.
Gideon Marsh looked exactly like the sort of man Sarah expected to dislike.
Fifty.
Well-dressed.
Smile without warmth.
Too much confidence for someone standing on another man's property with suspicious paperwork.
The sheriff looked embarrassed.
Thomas spoke first.
“Your survey is wrong.”
Marsh smiled.
“My survey disagrees.”
“With law?”
“Surveys can be contested.”
Sarah opened the folder.
“Not easily against a county-registered deed confirming the same boundary twelve years later.”
Marsh looked at her.
Dismissed her instantly.
Sarah recognized the look.
She had watched men make that mistake for most of her life.
“And you are?”
“Sarah Blackwood.”
“His wife.”
“Yes.”
“This is a property matter.”
“Yes.”
“So?”
“So I manage the records.”
Marsh's mouth tightened.
The sheriff took Sarah's documents.
Read.
Read again.
Looked toward Marsh.
“This carries the county seal.”
Marsh's smile disappeared.
The sheriff shook his head.
“I can't enforce your new survey against this.”
“If you want to contest it, take it to court.”
Marsh stared at Thomas.
Then Sarah.
“This isn't finished.”
Thomas said:
“I know.”
Marsh left.
The sheriff followed.
Sarah watched the wagon disappear.
Thomas said:
“The deed.”
“Yes?”
“You remembered where it was.”
“Yes.”
He looked at her as though this somehow remained shocking.
Sarah laughed.
“Thomas, I told you.”
“I remember nearly everything I read.”
“Yes.”
“I believed you.”
“You looked surprised.”
“I believed you theoretically.”
“That isn't belief.”
Thomas almost smiled.
“Apparently not.”
They walked toward the house.
Wind lifted Sarah's hair.
Thomas reached automatically as if to move a loose strand from her face.
Then stopped his hand halfway.
Sarah noticed.
So did he.
The air between them changed.
Thomas lowered his hand.
Sarah wished he had not.
That was inconvenient too.
The next morning Sarah found the theft.
Sixty-three dollars.
Small.
Too small.
The number did not match.