She stared.
"A bear?"
"Big one."
"Was it dangerous?"
"Mostly offended."
Clara laughed before she could stop herself.
Elias looked pleased.
It was the first time he had heard her laugh without exhaustion or bitterness mixed into the sound.
He approached the stove.
"Hungry?"
She hesitated.
Then her stomach answered loudly.
Elias looked over his shoulder.
One corner of his mouth lifted.
"I'll take that as a yes."
Clara blushed.
"How embarrassing."
"Nothing embarrassing about being hungry."
He served thick porridge with preserved apples, butter, and a little honey.
Clara stared at the bowl.
"You cook?"
"Been feeding myself a long time."
She tasted it.
It was delicious.
Elias watched her expression carefully.
"Not bad?"
She smiled.
"Very good."
He sat opposite her.
"Then perhaps I won't starve you after all."
Clara laughed softly.
For a few minutes, they ate in companionable silence.
Then she noticed something on the table beside his lantern.
A folded document.
Cream-colored paper.
A familiar blue banking seal.
And beneath the seal, a signature she recognized immediately.
Nathaniel Whitcomb.
Clara froze.
The spoon stopped halfway to her mouth.
Elias noticed.
"What is it?"
She slowly lowered the spoon.
Then pointed toward the paper.
"Where did you get that?"
His expression changed.
"What?"
"That document."
He looked toward the folded page.
For several seconds, he did not move.
Clara rose from her chair.
Her injured feet protested, but she ignored the pain.
She approached the table.
Elias stood.
"Clara."
She reached for the paper.
He did not stop her.
She unfolded it.
Across the top were the words:
Whitcomb Banking House β Private Correspondence.
The date was October 27, 1888.
The letter referred to several parcels of land near Blackcap Pass, a proposed railroad extension, and the acquisition of mineral and water rights beneath a company called the Redstone Development Syndicate.
At the bottom was Nathaniel's unmistakable signature.
Clara looked up.
Her voice trembled.
"Why do you have a letter from my husband?"
Elias said nothing.
She took a step toward him.
"Did he send you?"
His expression hardened.
"No."
"Did he pay you to find me?"
"No."
"Then why is his signature in your house?"
Elias looked at the document.
Then at her.
"Because I've been trying to prove your husband's a thief."
Clara stared.
The room seemed to tilt.
"What?"
He took a slow breath.
"Your husband and his banking partners have been buying land around this mountain for almost five years."