For five years, Caleb visited that place carrying only guilt.
Now he carried grief and purpose.
And beside him walked someone who refused to let him face either alone.
The following days brought more evidence.
Margaret Bell's sister produced an old deed describing access to the creek.
Two ranchers supplied copies of agreements they had refused to sign.
Abigail Porter remembered a company representative asking the school board to approve a road across land that hadn't yet been purchased.
And a retired freight driver identified a section of the northern route where survey stakes had appeared unexpectedly after Thomas Hart's death.
Clara organized everything.
She used the schoolhouse after lessons ended, spreading documents across the teacher's desk and comparing descriptions with her father's field books.
Abigail helped.
So did Margaret.
Neither woman understood every technical detail, but both recognized that Clara needed accurate dates, names, and sources.
They prepared copies.
Marked uncertainties.
And separated direct observations from rumors.
Caleb visited when he could.
He sometimes stood beside the window while Clara worked, watching the concentration on her face.
She looked different when studying maps.
More confident.
Less frightened.
The woman who trembled when Crowe approached her had become a careful investigator willing to question businessmen, clerks, and ranchers twice her age.
Caleb admired that.
He admired her determination.
Her precision.
And the way she refused to exaggerate even when the truth was already alarming enough.
One afternoon, he watched her compare two survey descriptions.
She frowned.
Then moved a ruler.
Then checked another figure.
For several minutes, she seemed unaware of him.
Finally, he asked, "What is it?"
Clara looked up.
Her eyes were bright.
"Look."
He approached.
She pointed toward the map.
"The newer boundary assumes this creek bend lies forty chains farther south than the older description."
Caleb frowned.
"That's a long way."
"Yes."
She traced the line.
"But the creek hasn't moved that far. The terrain makes it impossible without leaving evidence of a major change."
He studied the drawing.
Then looked toward the mountains.
"There's a rock wall there."
Clara nodded.
"Exactly."
She smiled.
"You remember the landscape."
Caleb gave a faint grin.
"Spent enough years riding it."
She looked toward him.
For a moment, her expression softened.
Then she asked, "Would you help me?"
His smile disappeared.
"Find the marker?"
She nodded.
He looked toward the window.
Snow still covered the northern trail.
Spring was coming, but the mountains remained dangerous.
He considered the request.
Then nodded slowly.
"Not alone."
Clara smiled.
"Of course."
He continued.
"We take the sheriff, someone qualified to survey the location, and enough supplies to manage the weather."
She nodded eagerly.
"Agreed."
Caleb looked toward her.
Then smiled faintly.