Martha watched him nervously.
Finally, he looked up.
"Where did you get this list?"
She frowned.
"From the freight office."
He pointed toward a column.
"These aren't only wage deductions."
Martha leaned closer.
Caleb continued.
"They're payments connected to timber rights, transportation permits, and land agreements."
She stared.
"I didn't understand those entries."
Caleb's jaw tightened.
"One of these names belongs to a company operating near Bitter Creek."
Martha felt cold.
"What company?"
He looked toward her.
"Tate Western Freight."
She stared.
The name was familiar.
She remembered seeing it in Harlan's office.
But she'd assumed it was merely another branch of his Missouri business.
Caleb studied the page again.
Then he pointed toward an entry describing a route through the mountain valley.
His own valley.
He looked toward the window.
For years, he'd refused offers from timber contractors who wanted to build a freight road across his property. The route would provide access to stands of valuable pine and spruce farther up the ridge, but it would also disturb the creek, the grazing land, and the sheltered meadow where his cabin stood.
He had no interest in selling.
Now he recognized the names connected to those offers.
And at the bottom of Martha's copied page was an entry referring to a prospective road agreement.
Beside it, written in Harlan Tate's distinctive handwriting, was a notation.
Montgomery holding. Obtain cooperation before spring.
Caleb stared.
Martha looked at him.
"What does that mean?"
He took a slow breath.
"It means my brother has been trying to reach my land."
She felt her heart begin pounding.
Caleb looked toward the packet.
Then toward her.
"And I think we need to find out whether your arrival here was as accidental as either of us believed."
Martha looked at the account page for a long time.
She knew Harlan Tate's handwriting almost as well as her own. She had copied his figures for years, corrected his calculations when he made errors, and prepared letters he was too impatient to write himself. The words obtain cooperation were unmistakably his.
"But why would he want your land?" she asked.
Caleb set the page beside the others. "There's timber farther up the valley worth a great deal of money. The easiest way to haul it to the main freight road is through my lower meadow."
"Could he build another road?"
"He could. It would be longer and cost more."
Martha looked toward the window, where snow pressed against the glass. She'd seen the meadow only once, on the afternoon Caleb showed her the creek before the weather turned. It was a sheltered stretch of ground surrounded by pines, with a small stream winding through it and a view toward the mountains.
She remembered telling him how beautiful it was.
Now she understood that other men saw it differently.
To them, it was a route.
An expense.