He came on a magnificent black horse accompanied by a younger rider wearing a dark coat and expensive boots.
Hawthorne was fifty-four, tall and lean, with silver-streaked hair, a clean-shaven face, and pale-blue eyes that seemed to evaluate everything they saw.
He wore a finely tailored riding coat, polished boots, and a black felt hat.
His saddle was expensive.
His horse perfectly groomed.
And his manner suggested a man accustomed to being welcomed wherever he went.
Nathaniel saw him approaching.
His smile disappeared.
Mateo noticed immediately.
“Trouble?”
Nathaniel nodded.
“Hawthorne.”
Clara looked up from the account book.
For a moment, her hand became still.
“Hawthorne?”
Nathaniel didn't notice the change in her voice.
“Richest rancher in the valley.”
He looked toward the approaching horse.
“Been trying to buy this place for years.”
Clara slowly closed her notebook.
The name stirred memories of her father's papers.
Augustus Hawthorne.
The old land dispute.
The sealed document.
And the reason she'd come west.
She took a breath.
Then looked toward Nathaniel.
“Does he have business here?”
The rancher shook his head.
“Nothing I intend to discuss.”
Hawthorne stopped near the porch.
He looked around.
For a moment, his expression changed.
The yard was cleaner than during his previous visit.
The porch looked sturdy.
And the northern fence had been repaired.
He dismounted.
“Carter.”
Nathaniel remained still.
“Hawthorne.”
The wealthy rancher smiled.
“I see you've been busy.”
Nathaniel nodded.
“Usually am.”
Hawthorne looked toward Clara.
For a moment, his gaze lingered.
Not with admiration.
With surprise.
Then he smiled.
“And who is this?”
Clara met his eyes.
“Clara Whitmore.”
The change was immediate.
Hawthorne's smile disappeared for less than a second.
But Clara saw it.
He recognized the name.
Then his expression became smooth again.
“Whitmore?”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
He studied her.
For a moment, his eyes narrowed.
“Any relation to Samuel Whitmore?”
Clara felt her heart accelerate.
“My father.”
Hawthorne went very still.
Nathaniel looked between them.
“You knew her father?”
The wealthy rancher smiled.
“Only by reputation.”
Clara held his gaze.
“Then perhaps you've heard that he was particularly interested in property records.”
For a moment, the air seemed to tighten.
Hawthorne's expression remained pleasant.
But his fingers closed more firmly around his gloves.
“Yes,” he said softly. “I believe I remember something of the sort.”
Nathaniel noticed the exchange.
He didn't understand it.