Caleb drank coffee.
That was a lot.
Not impossible.
His trap lines had done well the previous two winters.
He sold furs in Denver.
Kept money because he had nothing to spend it on besides supplies, repairs, land taxes.
Caleb asked:
“Who holds mortgage?”
“Bank.”
“And private notes?”
“Some.”
“Henrik sold one to Silas Croft.”
Caleb knew name.
Everyone did.
Croft owned saloon, freight interest, half the bad debt in town, and possibly half sheriff depending who was telling story.
“What happens if Henrik defaults?”
“Croft takes stable.”
“And Marta?”
Travis shrugged.
“Becomes someone else’s problem, according to men who talk like that.”
Caleb hated phrase.
He finished coffee.
“Bank open tomorrow?”
Travis stared.
“You’re not buying stable.”
“I asked if bank is open.”
“Caleb.”
“Yes?”
“That woman will kill you if you try rescue her without asking.”
Caleb looked at him.
“I’m not trying rescue her.”
Travis smiled.
“That answer makes me more worried.”
The next morning, Caleb visited bank.
By afternoon, he had learned debt was worse than rumor.
Nine hundred twelve dollars secured against stable property.
Another one hundred eighty to Croft personally.
Three unpaid supplier notes.
Henrik had been refinancing interest with new loans.
Caleb asked banker:
“If mortgage sold?”
The banker adjusted spectacles.
“To whom?”
“Me.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You want Lindholm stable?”
“No.”
The banker frowned.
“Then why purchase debt?”
Caleb placed cash certificate on desk.
“I asked price.”
The banker studied him.
“Eight hundred fifty clears bank note today.”
“Croft note separate.”
“I’ll handle Croft.”
“Henrik know?”
“No.”
“Marta?”
“No.”
The banker leaned back.
“Mr. North, forgive me.”
“I’m trying to understand advantage.”
Caleb looked toward window.
“No advantage.”
That answer only confused him more.
Caleb bought the bank note.
Then walked into Croft’s saloon.
Silas Croft sat playing solitaire.
He looked up.
“Well.”
“Mountain bear comes indoors.”
Caleb hated nickname more each time.
“I’m buying Lindholm note.”
Croft laughed.
“No.”
Caleb remained standing.
“How much?”
“Not for sale.”
“Everything is.”
Croft’s eyes narrowed.
“Two-fifty.”
“Note’s one-eighty.”
“Then don't buy.”
Caleb put two hundred on table.
Croft smiled.
“Two-fifty.”
Caleb turned.
Croft said:
“Wait.”
Caleb stopped.
“Two-twenty.”
Caleb returned.
“Two hundred.”
Croft stared.
“You bargain like man buying mule.”
“You sell like bad one.”
Croft laughed.
“Fine.”
They signed.
By evening Caleb controlled enough debt to seize Lindholm stable if Henrik defaulted.
He felt sick about it.
Travis was right.
Marta would hate him if she misunderstood.
Maybe even if she understood.
So Caleb did something unexpected.
He visited territorial attorney.
“Can debt be assigned into another person’s benefit?”
The attorney frowned.
“Explain.”
Caleb did.
Slowly.
The attorney listened.
Then smiled too much.
“You're in love.”
“No.”
“You’ve known her two days?”
“Yes.”
“Then worse.”
Caleb glared.