“I can—”
“You have one useful hand.”
“Harsh.”
“Accurate.”
She knelt as far as her body comfortably allowed and felt beneath the drawer.
Nothing.
Then her fingertips found a small wooden catch.
A hidden panel dropped.
Inside was a thin black book.
Evelyn stopped breathing.
Jonah smiled.
“There.”
She took it.
Samuel’s handwriting.
Pages of dates.
Debts.
Payments.
Names.
Near the final pages:
May 11. Vale. Final note. $1,246. Paid complete. Receipt with J.R. until recording finished.
Evelyn sat hard into her father’s chair.
“J.R.”
Jonah Reed.
Jonah remained standing.
Underneath:
May 14. Vale lying. County has nothing. If I am right, Harlan and Bell may have lost land same way. Must speak to Jonah.
Then May 17:
Heard rail men in Vale office. South line through Hart lower pasture. Now I understand.
Evelyn’s hand trembled.
May 20:
If anything happens, Elena must have this book. She knows figures better than I ever did. I should have told her sooner. Pride is expensive.
That was the last entry.
Samuel died May 23.
Evelyn stared at the words until they blurred.
Pride is expensive.
Her father had written that.
A man who almost never admitted error.
Jonah moved quietly toward the door.
Evelyn looked up.
“Where are you going?”
“To give you privacy.”
She nearly told him to stay.
The word reached her throat.
Stopped.
“Fine.”
Jonah left.
Evelyn sat alone with Samuel’s ledger for almost an hour.
When she finally came outside, Jonah was in the barn trying to brush his horse one-handed.
“You’re doing that badly.”
He looked over.
“I have received a lot of criticism today.”
“Deserved.”
Evelyn took the brush.
The horse leaned into her.
Jonah said:
“His name is Jasper.”
“He looks offended by you.”
“He often is.”
She brushed the animal.
Jonah watched.
“Your father loved you.”
Evelyn’s hand stopped.
“Don’t.”
“I’m not excusing secrets.”
“Then don’t tell me what he felt.”
Jonah nodded.
“You’re right.”
They stood quietly.
Evelyn resumed.
After a while:
“He should have told me.”
“Yes.”
“He thought protecting me meant doing everything alone.”
Jonah looked toward his sling.
“Yes.”
Evelyn’s eyes narrowed.
“That was not an invitation to compare yourself.”
“I said nothing.”
“You thought loudly.”
For the first time, Jonah laughed fully.
The sound filled the barn.
Evelyn tried not to smile.
Failed.
The next morning she examined his shoulder.
She was not a doctor.
She knew livestock and enough human injury to know swelling was wrong.
“We’re going to town.”
“No.”
“You need a physician.”
“We need county clerk first.”
“You will be no use in court if your arm rots off.”
“It’s shoulder.”
“The principle stands.”
“I can ride.”
“You can barely button shirt.”
His face changed.
Evelyn realized.
He had struggled that morning.
She looked away quickly.
“Get in wagon.”