Then Lena placed duplicate ledgers on counter.
“We believe one merchant is using freight monopoly and false account balances to obtain ranch property.”
The clerk stopped.
“Sit.”
Four hours later they were speaking with assistant territorial attorney James Whitcomb.
He reviewed.
Asked questions.
Then said:
“If genuine, this is substantial.”
Pike whispered:
“It’s genuine.”
“Can you testify?”
The old bookkeeper looked sick.
“Yes.”
Whitcomb continued:
“Where are originals?”
“Safe.”
“Keep them safe.”
“Do not confront Prescott.”
Reid laughed bitterly.
“He already cut off food.”
Whitcomb looked up.
“What?”
Lena gave threatening letter.
No signature.
Whitcomb read.
“Can you prove source?”
“No.”
“Then not yet useful criminally.”
“Useful to us.”
Lena said.
He nodded.
“I can send investigator.”
“When?”
“Within week.”
“We may not have week.”
“Why?”
“Winter.”
Whitcomb looked toward window.
Snow clouds.
He understood.
“I’ll send telegram today.”
They returned.
At ranch, Thomas met them before wagon stopped.
“Barn.”
Reid jumped down.
“What?”
“Someone tried burning hay.”
Lena’s heart dropped.
Behind barn one haystack showed black edge.
Fire extinguished early.
Samuel had smelled smoke.
Found oil-soaked rag.
Thomas had organized bucket line.
No major loss.
Reid looked at his sons.