Silas smiled down.
“Maybe ask why your father refused to sell the north ridge.”
Then he rode away.
Back inside, Callaway looked shaken.
Maeve folded her arms.
“Another secret?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I genuinely don’t know.”
“Better.”
Callaway gave her a look.
Maeve almost smiled.
They obtained the records.
That evening they rented two rooms at the inn.
Separate rooms.
Maeve noticed Callaway requested them without hesitation.
At supper she asked, “If we prove the deed false, what happens?”
“You remain half owner.”
“And Mercer?”
“Depends what else we prove.”
“What do you think the railroad has to do with it?”
Callaway stared into his coffee.
“There’s an old route through the north valley. Too steep for wagons but suitable for a rail cut if someone blasted the ridge.”
“Would that make the land valuable?”
“Extremely.”
“How valuable?”
Callaway looked at her.
“Enough to kill for.”
Maeve stopped eating.
“You believe Mercer would kill us?”
“I believe his father ruined men for smaller things.”
“And Silas?”
“He learned from his father.”
Maeve sat back.
“Wonderful.”
Callaway’s mouth twitched.
She pointed her fork at him.
“Do not smile. You brought me into this.”
“I know.”
“I was being dramatic.”
“I know.”
“That does not require agreement.”
“Understood.”
Maeve tried not to laugh.
She failed.
It was the first time since the revelation that they felt like themselves again.
That frightened her too.
Forgiving Callaway would be easier than trusting him.
Trust was the dangerous part.
The next morning they visited an attorney named Ruth Bellamy, a formidable widow in her sixties whose office smelled of paper, tobacco, and peppermint.
Ruth examined the original deed.
Then the later transfer.
Then Patrick’s letters.
“This signature is suspicious.”
Maeve leaned forward.
“Can you prove it?”
“Not alone.”
“What else?”
Ruth tapped the filing date.
“This transfer was recorded eleven days after Thomas Callaway filed an objection.”
Callaway frowned.
“I never saw an objection.”
“Your father did.”
Ruth pulled another ledger from a shelf.
“Here.”
Thomas Callaway had filed a sworn statement contesting any transfer from Patrick Gallagher without direct verification.
Maeve stared.
“What happened?”
Ruth’s mouth tightened.
“It vanished from the official record for nineteen years.”
Callaway went still.
“Where did you get that?”
“Private archive of former Judge Henry Walsh.”
Ruth looked at Maeve.
“Judge Walsh distrusted Mercer’s father enough to copy certain filings.”
Maeve felt the pieces locking together.
“Mercer removed the objection.”
“Likely.”
“Then filed the false transfer.”
“Likely.”
“Why didn’t he take the ranch then?”
Ruth looked at Callaway.
“Because Thomas Callaway refused to leave.”
Callaway nodded slowly.
“He threatened my father twice.”
Ruth continued.
“And because title litigation would expose the records. Mercer instead waited for a cleaner opportunity.”