Paulie’s gaze moved between them.
Something sharp appeared.
Then vanished.
“Of course.”
He left.
Vincent waited until the door shut.
Then whispered:
“He suspects.”
Khloe nodded.
“What now?”
Vincent looked toward the kitchen.
“Now we let him believe he has time.”
Samuel provided more than a story.
He had receipts.
Copies.
Letters.
A small railway map stolen from Paulie’s desk the night he fled.
Khloe spent the morning organizing everything.
Vincent sent the commissioner away.
Then dispatched two trusted riders to town.
One for Sheriff Dalton.
One for Vincent’s attorney.
Neither rider was told why.
Vincent trusted fewer people now.
That changed him visibly.
Khloe watched.
At noon he found her in the office.
“You eaten?”
She looked up.
“No.”
“Come.”
“I need another hour.”
“Khloe.”
She sighed.
“You sound like Mrs. Bell.”
“Take that as a threat.”
They ate in the kitchen.
Bread.
Beef.
Apples.
Khloe barely tasted anything.
Vincent watched her.
“You’re afraid.”
“Yes.”
“Of Marco?”
“I don’t know him.”
“Paulie.”
She nodded.
Vincent looked toward his hands.
“I should’ve seen it.”
Khloe shook her head.
“Trust is not stupidity.”
“It can be.”
“No.”
He looked up.
She continued.
“Trust becomes stupidity only after evidence and refusal.”
Vincent almost smiled.
“That from commercial law?”
“My father.”
“The man who lost everything?”
“Yes.”
“He sounds wiser than his results.”
Khloe laughed softly.
“He became wise afterward.”
Vincent understood.
Pain taught expensive lessons.
They ate quietly.
Then Khloe asked:
“What was Marco like?”
Vincent stared toward the window.
“Better with people.”
“Than you?”
“Most horses are better with people than me.”
She smiled.
Vincent continued.
“Marco could walk into a room and leave knowing everyone’s name.”
“He sounds charming.”
“He was.”
Past tense came naturally.
Vincent corrected himself mentally.
Was.
Maybe.
“Father liked me for work.”
Khloe listened.
“Trusted me with numbers.”
“Land.”
“Cattle.”
Vincent stared into his coffee.
“Marco thought that meant Father loved me more.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
Vincent looked at her.
“Father feared Marco because he loved him differently.”
“That happens.”
“Yes.”
“Did Marco know?”
“No.”
Silence.
Khloe reached toward Vincent’s hand.
Stopped.
Then smiled faintly.
“You do it too.”
“What?”
“Stop before touching.”
His expression softened.
Khloe placed her hand over his.
Vincent turned his palm upward.
Their fingers linked.
The gesture felt more intimate than the kisses had.
Maybe because daylight made everything more real.
“You believe Samuel?” Khloe asked.
“Yes.”
“Completely?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Vincent looked at her.
“You approve of distrust?”
“I approve of evidence.”
He smiled.
“There she is.”
“Who?”