Callaway stepped beside her.
“Liar.”
The clerk paled.
The back door opened.
Silas Mercer emerged.
Maeve almost laughed at the predictability.
“Miss Gallagher.”
“Mr. Mercer.”
He smiled.
“I hoped Callaway would eventually bring you somewhere civilized.”
Maeve held up the copy.
“You forged my father’s signature.”
Silas’s smile did not change.
“Bold accusation.”
“Is it wrong?”
“Yes.”
“Then you won’t mind an examination.”
His eyes cooled.
“By whom?”
“A handwriting expert.”
“In Red Hollow?”
“Helena.”
“That could take months.”
“I crossed an ocean. I’m patient.”
Silas studied her.
Then looked at Callaway.
“You should have told me she was difficult.”
Callaway’s expression was almost pleasant.
“I thought you’d enjoy learning.”
Silas’s smile disappeared.
Maeve turned toward the clerk.
“I want certified copies of every filing involving Patrick Gallagher, Thomas Callaway, Callaway Ranch, and Mercer Land & Title.”
The clerk looked at Silas.
Maeve saw it.
“So that’s how this works.”
Silas said quietly, “Careful.”
Maeve turned.
“With what?”
“Accusing respected men of fraud.”
“My father is dead. Callaway’s father is dead. Your father is dead. That leaves you.”
Silas stepped closer.
“Your father abandoned this land.”
“My father believed it had been transferred.”
“Same result.”
“No.”
Maeve smiled without warmth.
“One is abandonment. The other is theft.”
Callaway looked proud.
Silas noticed.
Something ugly entered his expression.
“You came here expecting to marry him, didn’t you?”
Maeve’s spine stiffened.
“None of your concern.”
“Then perhaps you should ask what marriage would do to your claim.”
“I already did.”
That surprised him.
Maeve continued.
“And perhaps you should ask why the man you keep trying to paint as a thief has spent years keeping separate accounts for property he could have quietly taken.”
Silas looked at Callaway.
Maeve saw irritation.
Good.
She wanted him irritated.
Silas lowered his voice.
“You do not understand what you stepped into.”
Maeve stepped closer.
“Then explain it.”
He smiled.
“The railroad survey changed everything.”
Callaway’s body went rigid.
Maeve looked at him.
“What survey?”
Silas realized too late that he had revealed something.
Callaway’s eyes sharpened.
“What railroad survey?”
Silas recovered.
“Rumors.”
Maeve watched him.
“No. You said it like a fact.”
Silas put on his gloves.
“Enjoy your inheritance, Miss Gallagher.”
He walked out.
Callaway followed him to the porch.
Maeve stayed close enough to hear.
“You’re after more than water,” Callaway said.
Silas mounted.
“You should have taken my offer.”
“What survey?”