“You’ve heard it?”
“People call it Holt Pass.”
“Cobb renamed it after your father died.”
Sadie looked again.
Her father.
Land.
Six hundred and forty acres.
“This is impossible.”
“No.”
“Why would my father own mountain land?”
“He and my father bought it together.”
“Your father?”
“Harlan Holt.”
Sadie knew the name vaguely.
Old trapper.
Dead many years.
Lucien continued.
“They found the pass while hauling hides west.”
“There’s a spring under the ridge that doesn’t freeze even in bad winters.”
“They bought the valley from a timber syndicate that failed.”
“Your father owned half.”
“My father was a carpenter.”
“He was more than that before you remember.”
Sadie’s voice rose.
“Then why was I scrubbing floors for ten years?”
The question cut.
Lucien looked away.
“That is what I’ve spent four months trying to understand.”
Sadie stared at him.
He continued.
“After your parents died, Cobb became administrator of your father’s remaining estate.”
Sadie knew that.
She had been told there was nothing.
Debts.
Funeral costs.
Failed business.
Lucien pointed toward deed.
“This was never entered in the estate accounting.”
“Why?”
“I think Cobb hid it.”
Sadie laughed once.
Not because funny.
Because nothing else could escape.
“You think?”
“I know he tried to sell something he didn’t own.”
She looked at him.
“What?”
Lucien reached into another folder.
A copied letter.
“Railroad surveyors came through Miller Pass last summer.”
Sadie understood slowly.
No.
Not yet.
Lucien continued.
“They want right-of-way.”
Her heart began pounding.
“The Northern Continental line?”
“Yes.”
Everyone in Oak Haven had talked about the possibility.
Railroad.
Trade.
Prosperity.
Land prices.
Cobb had promised a spur might save them.
Lucien tapped deed.
“The easiest route crosses your acreage.”
Sadie stared.
“If they build there…”
“Your signature is required.”
She looked at the iron wedding ring.
Then back at him.
“Why marriage?”
“Because Cobb was preparing papers declaring your whereabouts uncertain.”
“My whereabouts?”
“He planned to claim you’d left Oak Haven.”
“I lived at the boardinghouse.”
“I know.”
“Everyone knew.”
“He only needed county records to say something different long enough to complete a sale.”
Sadie’s stomach turned.
“And you thought marrying me would stop him.”
“It creates public record of where you are.”
“And gives you rights over my property.”
Lucien’s jaw tightened.
“Not under the agreement I prepared.”
“What agreement?”
He opened another paper.
She almost laughed.
“Do you carry an entire courthouse in that pouch?”
“Nearly.”
He slid it over.
The document stated that any property belonging to Sadie before marriage remained under her sole direction, and Lucien disclaimed marital control over its sale or income.
Sadie read twice.
“You signed this?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Before wedding.”
“Who witnessed?”
“Reverend Pike.”
She looked up sharply.
“He knew?”
“Some.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“And he said nothing to me.”