"Worse."
She looked at him.
He pointed toward the upper basin.
"They used the false line to claim the spring and the road together."
"Why?"
"If they control the only reliable wagon passage and water access, every rancher and timber hauler in the valley becomes dependent on them."
Lydia stared at the map.
She remembered Everett's business associates.
Their expensive coats.
Their polished shoes.
The way they spoke about land they had never visited as though it were only a collection of numbers.
She looked toward Gideon.
"Did your brother know who changed the survey?"
He turned several pages.
Then stopped.
His face hardened.
There was a name.
Silas Rusk.
And beneath it, written in Elias's narrow script:
Financial backing traced to E. Bowman, St. Louis.
Lydia felt the blood drain from her face.
Gideon looked at her.
She stared at the words.
"My husband."
Neither spoke.
Then Gideon turned another page.
A final entry appeared.
It had been written in haste.
The letters were uneven.
If I fail to return, do not trust the warehouse fire. The man calling himself Edward Vane is Everett Bowman.
Lydia went completely still.
The cabin seemed to tilt around her.
She grabbed the edge of the table.
Gideon reached toward her.
"Lydia?"
She could barely breathe.
"He's alive."
Gideon looked at the page.
Then back at her.
"We don't know for certain."
She shook her head.
"He used Edward Vane before."
Gideon's expression changed.
"What?"
"When he wanted to borrow money without using his own name."
Her voice trembled.
"He had papers printed that way. Business cards. I found them once, and he told me never to mention it."
She stared toward the door.
The winter forest beyond seemed suddenly full of unseen eyes.
"He's alive, Gideon."
The mountain man closed the journal carefully.
He looked at her.
Then reached for her hand.
"Then we'll find the truth."
Lydia turned toward him.
Tears filled her eyes.
"And if he's alive, what does that make me?"
Gideon understood.
Their wedding papers.
The vows spoken in Calder's Crossing.
The little gold ring he had placed on her finger.
All of it rested on the belief that Lydia was a widow.
If Everett Bowman had survived, the legal situation might be far more complicated than either of them had imagined.
Gideon looked at the ring.
Then at her face.
"It doesn't change who you are."
Her voice broke.
"It could change whether I'm your wife."
He swallowed.
Then answered softly.
"It doesn't change whether I want you here."
Lydia stared at him.
For a moment, she seemed unable to understand.
Then she lowered her head.
A sob escaped.
Gideon moved closer.
"May I hold you?"
She nodded.
He wrapped his arms around her.
Lydia pressed her face against his chest.
Outside, the light began fading behind the snow-covered pines.
Inside the abandoned survey cabin, a mountain man held a trembling woman while the truth of her first marriage began unraveling around them.