The porch went quiet.
He entered.
“What?”
“Sit.”
He sat.
Emma turned the ledger.
“You borrowed eleven thousand four hundred seventy dollars after refinancing.”
“Yes.”
“Annual interest nine percent.”
“Yes.”
“You made principal payments totaling twelve thousand six hundred since then.”
Elias stared.
“That sounds wrong.”
“It is.”
“How can I pay more principal than I borrowed and still owe eight thousand?”
“You cannot.”
“Unless?”
“Unless the bank has repeatedly capitalized charges that should not exist.”
Emma pointed.
“See this?”
Elias squinted.
“I see numbers.”
“Freight stabilization fee.”
“Two hundred forty.”
“Then three months later the same amount appears under winter livestock security assessment.”
“What is that?”
“You tell me.”
“I have no idea.”
“Exactly.”
She turned several pages.
“Here.”
“Interest calculated at nine percent.”
“Then a separate quarterly carrying charge equal to approximately another three percent.”
Elias’s expression hardened.
“Bell said carrying charges were standard.”
“They may be.”
“Not if the note prohibits additional percentage-based finance charges.”
“You read the note?”
“Yes.”
Elias blinked.
“In one evening?”
“It is six pages.”
He looked personally offended.
Emma almost smiled.
She continued.
“I need the original mortgage.”
“In the desk.”
“Bring it.”
By midnight Emma had found enough questionable charges to reduce the likely balance by at least four thousand dollars.
Maybe more.
Elias sat across from her, stunned.
“You’re sure?”
“No.”
He frowned.
“That sounded confident.”
“I’m sure the entries are suspicious.”
“I am not sure which are unlawful or merely badly documented.”
“We need receipts from Bell.”
“And freight records.”
“Where?”
“Rail office.”
“Mercy Bend?”
“Yes.”
Emma leaned back.
“We go Monday.”
Elias stared.
“What?”
“You say ‘we’ like you already own the place.”
She froze.
He saw it.
“Wrong words.”
“Yes.”
“I meant…”
“I know what you meant.”
Still, the old instinct had appeared.
Owned.
Emma closed the ledger.
“I’m going to bed.”
Elias stood.
“Emma.”
It was the first time he used her given name.
She stopped.
“I don’t want to own you.”
His voice was quiet.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Emma looked back.
“No.”
Honest.
Elias nodded.
“Then I’ll prove it slowly.”
She went upstairs.
The next week became a rhythm.
Accounts after supper.
Ranch work by day.
Emma found herself useful in ways she had almost forgotten.
She negotiated with a feed supplier who tried charging extra for sacks supposedly damaged during transport.
She reorganized the pantry.
She stitched a torn saddlebag.
She noticed one calf limping before Ben did.
She also tired easily in the heat.