Food.
Three dollars.
Where would she go?
What work would take her?
Would any chair hold her?
Would any boarding room accept her?
The same questions Abigail had used for nine years.
Matilda opened her mouth.
Nothing came.
Abigail saw victory.
Then Jedodiah said quietly:
“She's got Black Ridge.”
Abigail went white.
Not pale.
White.
Matilda turned sharply.
“What?”
Jedodiah's eyes remained on Abigail.
“I said she has Black Ridge.”
Abigail whispered:
“You don't know what you're talking about.”
“I do.”
“What does that mean?”
Matilda demanded.
Neither answered.
She looked between them.
“Somebody had better speak.”
Abigail recovered first.
“Mountain nonsense.”
Jedodiah reached into his coat.
The key.
He held it up.
Abigail stared.
Then did something Matilda would remember for the rest of her life.
She ran.
Not toward the dining room.
Toward her office.
Jedodiah moved after her.
Matilda shouted:
“Stop!”
He froze.
Abigail disappeared down the hall.
A door slammed.
Matilda stared at Jedodiah.
“What did you mean?”
He looked toward the closed office.
Then at her.
“Your mother owned half of Black Ridge Station.”
Matilda laughed.
No humor.
“My mother washed clothes for miners.”
“Later.”