“What claim?”
“Says old deed correction gives him timber and creek access.”
Eliza whispered:
“It’s starting.”
Caleb stood.
“What?”
“Samuel said if Hollis believed he was dead, he’d move quickly.”
“First he takes girls.”
“Then records.”
“Then land.”
Martha looked between them.
“What land?”
Caleb answered:
“Mine.”
Eliza corrected:
“Theirs.”
Caleb looked at babies.
For first time word did not anger him.
Theirs.
His nieces.
Samuel’s daughters.
Family.
He had not said family aloud yet.
That night Caleb opened an old trunk.
Inside were papers.
His father’s will.
Tax receipts.
Boundary surveys.
A photograph of Caleb and Samuel at ages twenty-four and nineteen.
Eliza picked it up.
Samuel had same eyes.
Lighter hair.
Easier smile.
She touched image.
“He changed.”
Caleb sat opposite.
“How?”
“He grew beard.”
Caleb almost smiled.
“Like yours.”
“His was better.”
“No.”
Eliza looked up.
“He said yours made you look like an angry bear.”
“That sounds like him.”
Silence.
“Did he love me?”
Caleb asked.
Eliza’s eyes filled instantly.
“Yes.”
Caleb looked down.
“He thought you hated him.”
“I was angry.”
“He understood that later.”
“Not when it mattered.”
“He wrote letters.”
“I didn't receive them.”
“He believed you did.”
Caleb rubbed forehead.
“What did he tell you about our fight?”
“That you called him thief.”
Caleb flinched.
“And that he hit you.”
“He did.”
“He said you had reason to believe worst of him because he'd gambled before.”
“Yes.”
“He said he should have trusted you with truth.”
Caleb looked toward fire.
“He always wanted to fix things alone.”
“So do you.”
Caleb looked at her.
She held gaze.
“Maybe.”
“No.”
“You do.”
“Annoying habit.”
“You share it.”
Caleb almost laughed.
Eliza returned photograph.
“He would have liked seeing you hold girls.”
Caleb’s face tightened.
“Don't.”
“Why?”
“Because he won’t.”
Eliza’s voice softened.
“I know.”
“Then don't make grief prettier than it is.”
“I’m not.”
“Sam is dead.”
“Yes.”
“He should be here.”
“Yes.”
“I should've found him.”
“You didn't know.”
“I should have looked harder.”
Eliza leaned forward.
“Caleb.”
He looked at her.
“My husband spent eight years hiding because he was certain Hollis would kill anyone connected to him.”
“He thought you were safer believing him dead.”
“He was wrong.”
“You were wrong.”
“Your father was wrong.”
“I was wrong about things too.”
“You cannot build future by choosing which person gets all blame.”
Caleb said nothing.
She continued:
“Samuel loved you.”
“And he also stayed away.”
“Both are true.”
Caleb stared into her eyes.
“You say hard things gently.”
“No.”
“I say true things.”
“That’s worse.”
Weeks passed.
Winter deepened.
Hollis did not immediately return.
That worried Caleb.
A quiet enemy was usually planning.
Caleb rode to Cedar Ridge only once.
He went before dawn, met old attorney Benjamin Crowe, and showed Samuel’s note.
Crowe had known Morgan father.