The clerk was an elderly man who had known Caleb for several years. He found the relevant surveys and recorded property descriptions, then spread them across a wide table.
Caleb pointed toward his homestead.
Martha examined the boundary lines.
Then she compared the official map with the copied account pages.
For several minutes, she worked silently.
Caleb watched her.
Then she looked up.
"I think I understand."
The clerk leaned closer.
Martha pointed toward the lower creek.
"Harlan's company has been paying surveyors to prepare a route across this land."
Caleb nodded.
"Yes."
She continued.
"But these figures refer to payments supposedly made for access rights."
The clerk frowned.
"Where?"
Martha pointed toward one of the ledger entries.
Caleb read it.
Then he stared.
The amount was substantial.
Beside it was a notation suggesting a preliminary agreement with the property owner.
Caleb shook his head.
"I never accepted anything."
The clerk looked toward him.
"Have you signed any right-of-way agreement?"
"No."
"Accepted money?"
"No."
The clerk examined the papers.
Then he looked toward Martha.
"These entries may be internal business records, but they're not a deed or valid grant of rights."
She nodded.
"I understand."
He continued.
"If the company is claiming authority it doesn't have, the actual recorded instruments will matter."
Martha looked toward Caleb.
Then she noticed another line.
The handwriting was smaller, almost hidden beneath the totals.
She leaned closer.
Her expression changed.
"Mr. Montgomery?"
Caleb turned.
"What is it?"
She pointed toward the page.
"Look at the date."
He examined it.
Then frowned.
The notation referred to an agreement supposedly completed the previous spring.
But Martha remembered copying that page in Missouri before leaving Harlan's employment.
The date had been entered months before the supposed agreement occurred.
Caleb stared.
The clerk looked closer.
Then he nodded slowly.
"That's worth preserving."
Martha felt her heart begin pounding.
For the first time, she wasn't merely carrying records that made her employer angry.
She was helping identify a discrepancy that could be checked against independent documents.
The clerk made a careful note of the issue.
Caleb watched Martha.
Her face was flushed, and her hands trembled slightly, but she was speaking clearly.
She was no longer the frightened woman who had stepped from the stagecoach believing she needed to prove her usefulness to a stranger.
She was using her knowledge.
Asking questions.
And refusing to let someone else define the truth.
Caleb felt something move through him that was stronger than admiration.
He was falling in love with her.
The realization frightened him.
He had spent years believing love was a weakness that made men careless.
Now he understood it might also make them brave enough to change.
But he didn't tell her.
Not yet.
Because he wanted Martha to feel free to make her own choice before she knew how deeply he hoped she'd choose him.