But he had just given her something nobody else ever had.
The right to know her own history.
She unfolded the second letter.
And continued reading.
Her uncle explained that the property originated with her maternal grandfather, who had acquired land in the Colorado mountains during the early years of western settlement.
Most of it was rugged.
Remote.
Difficult to cultivate.
But the property included timber, grazing land, water access, and mineral interests.
Her mother inherited a significant share.
When she married, she placed that interest under a trust intended to protect it for her future children.
The trust named her daughter as the ultimate beneficiary.
Her father was supposed to act as guardian until she reached adulthood.
He was not supposed to sell the underlying property for his own benefit.
He was not supposed to conceal its existence.
And he was not supposed to use it as collateral for personal debts without proper authority.
According to the letters, he had attempted all three.
The woman stared at the paper.
Her father had told her they were poor.
Not merely struggling.
Desperate.
He claimed every loaf of bread cost him more than he could afford.
He complained about buying fabric.
Complained about heating her room.
Complained about the amount of food she needed.
He counted every penny spent on her.
But somewhere in the mountains, an inheritance had been waiting.
She looked toward the man at the stove.
"How much is the land worth?"
He paused.
"That depends."
"On what?"
"Who wants it."
She frowned.
"I don't understand."
He returned with two mugs of tea.
Then sat.
"The land itself is difficult country. Timber. Stone. Steep ridges. Good water, though. Some pasture."
She nodded.
"And?"
"There are people who believe valuable minerals lie beneath it."
Her eyes widened.
"Gold?"
"Some gold. Silver, perhaps. Other deposits."
He looked toward the documents.
"But the biggest value may be the water."
She frowned.
"Water?"
"There's a spring-fed creek running through the eastern parcel. It stays open in winter."
He paused.
"Several mining companies want access."
The woman stared into the fire.
Her father had once told her that she would never own anything of value.
Now she was learning that strangers had been negotiating for land tied to her name.
She looked back at the mountain man.
"Why bring me here?"
He answered without hesitation.
"Because your uncle asked me to keep you safe until the papers could be reviewed."
"Safe from whom?"
His expression hardened.
"Your father isn't the only person who wants that land."