The mountain man continued.
“I found this duplicate in an old document box held by the notary’s widow.”
“Your father had signed two originals.”
The woman stared at document.
The brother muttered:
“It doesn’t matter.”
She looked up.
He pointed toward deed.
“Unrecorded deed.”
“Debts.”
“Liens.”
“That place is mortgaged.”
Her stomach tightened.
“What debts?”
He laughed bitterly.
“You think hay buys itself?”
“Repairs?”
“Taxes?”
“You know what winters cost?”
“I know exactly what winters cost.”
“Then you know we owe.”
“How much?”
He did not answer.
“How much?”
The brother looked away.
The woman stepped closer.
“How much did you borrow against my stable?”
The two ranchers began backing toward exit.
The woman pointed.
“You stay.”
Both stopped.
Her brother’s voice dropped.
“Eight thousand.”
She stared.
Eight thousand dollars.
More than years of profit.
More than the horses in current stalls were worth.
“For what?”
“Operating.”
“Liar.”
His head snapped.
“Don’t.”
“I keep feed accounts.”
“I know what we spend.”
“You gamble.”
One rancher looked at floor.
Her brother’s face went red.
“That’s none—”
“It became mine when you mortgaged my property.”
The mountain man said quietly:
“Who holds note?”
The brother looked at him with hatred.
“The bank.”
Of course.
The stable woman knew which banker.
The man who had visited twice in last year asking whether she had considered selling.
The same man who once told her:
“A woman shouldn’t tie herself to a business when marriage will change everything anyway.”
She had thought he was merely irritating.
Now she wondered how much he knew.
The mountain man asked:
“When due?”
The brother said:
“Three weeks.”
The woman closed eyes.
Three weeks.
The mountain man looked at deed.
“If title is hers, mortgage may not stand.”
Her brother laughed.
“Unless she signed.”
The stable woman’s eyes opened.
“What?”
He froze.
Too late.
She stared.
“Unless I signed what?”
No answer.
She remembered papers.
Months earlier.
Her brother had brought receipts to kitchen while she was canning.
Asked her to sign feed authorization because he had injured wrist.
She signed three places without reading closely.
She had trusted him.
The room tilted.
“You forged around my signature.”
“No.”
“You put mortgage papers under feed accounts.”
“I needed—”
She slapped him.
The sound echoed.
Her own hand shocked her.
Her brother staggered one step.
The mountain man moved instinctively, then stopped.
The stable woman stared at her hand.
Then at brother.