He set down the wood.
Abigail pointed to the chair opposite her.
“Sit.”
Cole sat.
She placed the first contract in front of him.
“Loan renewal. Eighteen eighty-four.”
“I remember.”
“You shouldn’t.”
He frowned.
“Why?”
“Because no honest loan agreement should require the borrower to memorize an ambush.”
That got his attention.
Abigail pointed.
“Read this clause.”
Cole leaned closer.
He read.
Then read again.
“I’ve read this before.”
“I’m sure.”
“I don’t understand what’s different.”
“Exactly.”
She sat.
“The language says Blackwood can adjust your interest if livestock value falls beneath a benchmark established by regional conditions.”
“Yes.”
“Who establishes the benchmark?”
Cole scanned the paragraph.
“Bank.”
“Who determines regional conditions?”
He read further.
“Bank.”
“Who evaluates your livestock?”
His eyes narrowed.
“Bank agent.”
“And who decides whether the resulting change constitutes sufficient risk to accelerate the loan?”
Cole looked up.
“Blackwood.”
Abigail nodded.
“It is not automatically illegal.”
“That sounds encouraging.”
“It isn’t.”
She slid another paper across.
“This is worse.”
A payment ledger.
Cole recognized it immediately.
“That’s from last year.”
“You paid four hundred and sixty dollars in March.”
“Yes.”
“Blackwood credited four hundred and sixteen.”
Cole stared.
“What?”
“Forty-four dollars vanished.”
“That’s not enough to explain the balance.”
“No.”
She brought out another.
“Then eighty-seven here.”
Another.
“Thirty-two here.”
Another.
“One hundred and nine here.”
Cole stopped moving.
Abigail placed both hands on the table.
“Small discrepancies.”
His jaw tightened.
“Small enough not to provoke attention.”
“Yes.”
“But carried forward.”
“With interest.”
Cole looked down.
The silence lengthened.
Abigail added, “There’s more.”
“Of course there is.”
“A clause in the livestock security agreement allows full acceleration if you fail to maintain ratios Blackwood himself calculates.”
Cole leaned back.
“How long have you been able to read contracts like this?”
“Since sixteen.”
He stared.
Abigail shrugged.
“My father was almost ruined in a grain dispute.”
“You were sixteen.”
“I could read.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
She smiled faintly.
“I know.”
She gathered the papers.
“Men talked around me.”
Cole waited.
“They saw a heavy girl sitting quietly in the corner and decided she was decorative at best.”
Her smile disappeared.
“They stopped guarding their language.”
Cole’s expression changed.
Abigail continued.
“They explained schemes in front of me because they assumed I wasn’t following.”
She looked directly at him.
“I was always following.”
Cole studied her for several seconds.
Then he looked at the pile.
“If Blackwood did this to me…”
“He did it to others.”
“You’re sure?”
“No.”
He almost looked disappointed.
Abigail smiled.
“I’m careful with certainty.”
“Good.”
“But I strongly suspect it.”
Cole leaned forward.