His injured hand was clenched.
For a moment, she feared he might crush the paper.
“Nathaniel.”
He looked up.
“Don't tell me to stay calm.”
She smiled faintly.
“I wasn't going to.”
He stared.
She continued.
“I was going to tell you we should preserve the letter.”
For a moment, his expression changed.
Then he began laughing bitterly.
“You and your paperwork.”
Clara looked toward him.
“Nathaniel, this man is counting on you becoming desperate enough to surrender the ranch.”
He shook his head.
“I won't.”
She stepped closer.
“Then we need to make certain desperation doesn't make the decision for you.”
For several seconds, he stared into her eyes.
Then he nodded.
“What do you need?”
Clara smiled.
“The truth, the records, and a very patient attorney.”
Nathaniel considered.
Then sighed.
“I can probably find two of those.”
She laughed.
And despite the growing danger to the ranch, he found himself smiling too.
Because Clara wasn't promising him an easy victory.
She was offering to stand beside him through a difficult fight.
And the longer they worked together, the more Nathaniel realized that was something he'd been missing his entire life.
Not someone to protect him from hardship.
Someone who would look at hardship, roll up her sleeves, and say they needed a better plan.
The attorney's name was Aldis Frey.
He was seventy-three years old, a retired territorial lawyer who lived in a weathered house beyond Red Hollow with two cats, a shelf full of legal books, and an apparently unlimited supply of complaints about younger attorneys.
Nathaniel had heard of him.
Everyone in the valley had.
Frey had once represented ranchers, merchants, and small landowners in disputes involving property boundaries, inheritance, and water access.
He was known for being difficult.
Expensive when he chose to charge.
And unusually willing to work for people who couldn't afford the impressive lawyers employed by wealthy ranching families.
Clara met him on a cold October morning.
They arrived carrying three folders, a property map, and a ledger filled with measurements.
Frey examined the stack.
Then looked toward Clara.
“You brought a library.”
She smiled.
“Only the relevant volumes.”
He raised one eyebrow.
Nathaniel nearly laughed.
Frey gestured toward the chairs.
“Sit.”
Clara examined the available seating, then requested the sturdier chair near the large desk.
The old attorney immediately understood.