He considered.
“Because doors are easier to change than people.”
Clara's smile disappeared.
Henry rolled onto one elbow.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Clara.”
She shook her head.
“No one ever said something like that to me.”
Henry looked uncomfortable.
“It wasn't poetry.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
“That is why it mattered.”
They remained on opposite sides of the room.
But something between them moved closer.
In Helena, Clara did not go immediately to the hotel where she believed her uncle was staying.
She went to an attorney.
Henry hated the attorney within three minutes.
The man wore a narrow black suit and had fingers that seemed designed exclusively for pointing at documents.
But he listened.
That earned Henry's patience.
Clara placed copies of the trust papers on his desk.
The attorney read for nearly an hour.
Finally he looked up.
“If these are accurate, your uncle has committed fraud on a remarkable scale.”
Clara's expression did not change.
“I know.”
“You have originals?”
“Some.”
“Bank records?”
“Yes.”
“Correspondence?”
“Yes.”
Henry interrupted.
“And attempted murder.”
The attorney looked at him.
“That is somewhat outside trust law.”
“Still seems relevant.”
The attorney blinked.
Clara almost smiled.
Then she handed over the map.
The attorney became more serious.
He knew the projected railroad expansion.
Speculators had been buying land quietly for months.
Water rights could be worth fortunes.
By the end of the meeting, three things had happened.
The attorney agreed to petition immediately for an injunction freezing the disputed trust assets.
He sent a telegram east to a federal banking examiner.
And Clara rewrote her will.
Henry watched.
“What did you change?”
“If both of us die under suspicious circumstances within thirty days of each other, all contested property transfers to a charitable hospital fund.”
Henry stared.
Clara signed.
The attorney witnessed.
Henry said, “So killing us becomes useless.”
“Mostly.”
“You planned that before we arrived?”
“During the sleigh ride.”
Henry looked offended.
“You spent half the ride sleeping.”
“I think efficiently.”
The attorney glanced between them.
“You two haven't been married long.”
“Three weeks,” Clara said.
Henry added, “Feels longer.”
She kicked his boot.
The attorney suppressed a smile.
They found Clara's uncle that afternoon.
Henry understood immediately why she had feared the man.
Not because he looked dangerous.
Because he looked respectable.
Perfect gray suit.
Clean hands.
Soft voice.
A gold watch.
The kind of man people trusted before he said anything.
He stood when Clara entered.
“My dear.”
“Don't.”
His smile remained.
Then he saw Henry.
The smile thinned.
“So this is the husband.”
Henry removed his hat.
Clara's uncle looked him over.
“Rancher?”
“Yes.”
“Modest operation?”
Henry answered, “Enough.”
The older man smiled.
“Apparently.”
Clara rolled closer to the table.
“You forged my signature.”