“What is this?”
Abigail’s face twisted.
“Your mother owed me money.”
“How much?”
“A great deal.”
“Seventy-three dollars?”
“That was after credits.”
“What credits?”
Abigail said nothing.
Matilda looked at the page again.
Assignment of outstanding Black Ridge interest as settlement—
Her heart hammered.
“You knew.”
Abigail shook her head.
“You knew she owned land.”
“It wasn't land.”
“What?”
“A useless mountain claim.”
Jedodiah’s voice became frighteningly quiet.
“Worth about forty thousand today.”
The room behind them went silent.
Miners had gathered.
Abigail looked toward them.
Then back.
Matilda could barely understand the number.
Forty thousand.
She earned three dollars a month.
Thirty-six dollars a year.
Without deductions.
At that wage, forty thousand dollars represented more than a thousand years.
Matilda stared at Abigail.
“You knew.”
Abigail’s eyes hardened.
“Your mother owed me.”
“For what?”
“Everything.”
“I housed her.”
“I fed you.”
“I paid the doctor.”
“I buried her.”
“And she signed away Black Ridge?”
“Yes.”
Jedodiah said:
“Show the assignment.”
Abigail looked toward him.
“It burned.”
He glanced at the wastebasket.
“How convenient.”
“It was there.”
“Then ashes should show seal wax.”
No answer.
Matilda looked around the office.