“Real.”
The fire cracked.
The woman looked down at the letter.
Then at him.
“Why were men chasing you?”
“Because I took something from their office.”
“What?”
“A ledger.”
“You stole it?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds like stealing.”
“It was.”
“Helpful.”
“They stole land first.”
“That does not become law because you say it.”
“I know.”
“Where is it?”
“Sewn inside my coat.”
The woman stood.
She crossed to the hearth.
The cowboy watched.
“Careful.”
She looked over her shoulder.
“With coat?”
“With what’s inside.”
She examined lining.
One section had been stitched crudely by hand.
She took sewing scissors.
Cut.
A small oilskin packet slid out.
Inside was a narrow ledger.
Names.
Dates.
Parcel numbers.
Payments.
Initials.
The woman recognized several local families.
Beside some names:
tax delinquent
vacated
claim transferred
Yet she knew those families had not left voluntarily.
Some had disappeared after debts.
Some sold for almost nothing.
Her own family name appeared.
She stopped breathing.
Next to it:
spring parcel — acquire before rail survey
The woman looked at cowboy.
“Rail?”
“Yes.”
“There’s no railroad this far west.”
“Not yet.”
He shifted painfully.
“A survey company has been mapping a northern spur.”
“If it goes through valley, your spring controls water access for construction camps and future stock yards.”
“How much?”
“What?”
“How much is this land worth?”
He hesitated.
“More than they offered you.”
“How much?”
“Maybe ten times.”
The woman stared at ledger.
“So this is about money.”
“And control.”
“Why kill my brother?”
“He had copies.”
“Where?”
“That’s what letter means.”
“Father’s fishing place.”
She looked toward window.
The old larch.
Three miles north.
Under snow now.
“We have to go.”
The cowboy tried to sit.
Pain folded him.
The woman moved automatically and pressed hand to shoulder.
“No.”
“You just said—”
“I said we.”
“Not tonight.”
“They may already know.”
“And you can barely sit.”
“I can ride.”
“You can barely breathe.”
“I’ve ridden worse.”
She glared.
“Not my horse.”
He stared.
She continued.
“You’ll reopen your side and bleed through my saddle.”
His mouth twitched.
“Your concern is touching.”
“My concern is cleaning blood off leather.”
“Understood.”
The woman folded ledger back into oilskin.
“We leave at first light.”