“Why?”
“Because your mother owned something he wanted.”
The fire cracked behind them.
Harlan’s voice remained calm.
“After they married, Edwin tried to persuade Eleanor to transfer the property into his name.”
Josephine swallowed.
“She refused?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“My mother witnessed the argument.”
Josephine gripped the paper.
“And then?”
“They left Montana.”
“My mother died when I was twelve.”
“I know.”
“How?”
Harlan hesitated.
“Fever, according to the records.”
“That is what my father said.”
“I don’t know anything different.”
Josephine noticed the careful phrasing.
“But you suspect something.”
“I suspect your father lies when truth becomes inconvenient.”
That was difficult to dispute.
Josephine looked down.
“The deed says the land transferred to me.”
“Your mother filed it six months before she died.”
“Why?”
“Protection.”
“From my father?”
“Yes.”
Josephine felt sick.
She thought of Eleanor.
Gentle Eleanor, always tired near the end.
Her mother had taught her to read contracts.
Josephine had never understood why a woman with little money cared so much about legal language.
Never sign something because someone you love says it is harmless.
Her mother used to say that.
Josephine had forgotten.
Until now.
“What was my father trying to sell?”
Harlan pointed toward the deed.
“This.”
“To you?”
“No.”
Josephine looked up.
“To whom?”
“A mining consortium out of Butte.”
“Why?”
“Surveyors found evidence of copper deposits west of Black Pine Ridge.”
Josephine stared.
“You’re saying this land may contain copper?”
“Possibly.”
“And it belongs to me?”
“Legally, yes.”
“Then my father couldn’t sell it.”
“Not without your signature.”
Josephine remembered the marriage papers.
Her blood ran cold.
“The papers.”
Harlan’s expression darkened.
“What about them?”
“I signed more than the certificate.”
Harlan went still.
“How many?”
“Three.”
“What were they?”
“Preacher Pike said they were duplicate marriage records.”
Harlan swore.
Josephine had never heard a man produce so much fury with so little volume.
“What?”
Harlan crossed to the wall and grabbed his coat.
She stood.
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere. Storm’s too bad.”
“Then why the coat?”
“Because if I don’t put my hands somewhere useful, I may ride down that mountain and break Pike’s jaw.”
Josephine stared.
“He helped my father?”
“I think so.”
“What did I sign?”
Harlan paced once.
“Possibly a transfer authorization.”
Josephine’s knees weakened.
Harlan immediately moved toward her but stopped short of touching.
“Sit.”
This time she obeyed.
“I gave my father the land.”
“Not necessarily.”
“I signed.”
“Under false representation.”
“Does that matter?”
“It can.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve spent three months asking lawyers.”
Josephine looked up sharply.
“Three months?”
Harlan closed his eyes.
He had said too much.
“You knew this was happening.”
“Yes.”
“Before the marriage arrangement.”