If the marriage had been intentionally false, Caleb could lose claim even if the mining agreement itself collapsed.
Eleanor read the notice.
“Convenient.”
Caleb’s face was grim.
“They will ask about the contract.”
“Yes.”
“We cannot lie.”
“No.”
“If they see it—”
“They will.”
His eyes lifted.
“Why?”
“Because hiding it makes us look guilty.”
“We are guilty.”
“Of what?”
“Marrying for land.”
“Yes.”
She leaned forward.
“But the will says married and maintaining household.”
“Not romantically married.”
“Not passionately married.”
“Not properly married according to Fletcher Rutherford’s imagination.”
“It says legally married.”
“We are.”
Caleb stared.
Eleanor smiled.
“What?”
“You enjoy this.”
“Arguments?”
“Yes.”
“Only when correct.”
“You often believe you are.”
“Frequently with evidence.”
At the hearing, Fletcher appeared.
He had not fled far.
Sacramento.
He entered wearing expensive gray wool and a smile Eleanor wanted to remove manually.
Board members sat behind a long table.
County attorney.
Clerk.
Two land commissioners.
An outside judge.
Fletcher’s attorney presented first.
The private contract.
He had obtained a copy from Horace’s papers.
Apparently Horace had bribed someone at the clerk’s office weeks earlier.
The attorney read sections aloud.
Three months.
Payment.
No expectation of intimacy.
Termination.
Then:
“Mrs. Morgan, did you marry Caleb Morgan because you loved him?”
Eleanor answered honestly.
“No.”
Murmurs.
Caleb looked toward her.
Calm.
He knew.
The attorney smiled.
“Mr. Morgan, did you marry Eleanor Whitmore because you loved her?”
“No.”
More murmurs.
The attorney turned toward the board.
“Then the marriage was fraudulent.”
Eleanor’s attorney stood.
“Legal conclusion.”
“Sustained,” the judge said.
The Rutherford attorney continued.
“Mrs. Morgan, you were paid?”
“Yes.”
“So you were effectively hired to impersonate a wife.”
“I was compensated for entering a three-month legal arrangement.”
“Difference?”
“One is theatrical.”
“One is lawful.”
The attorney smiled.
“Did you share a bed?”
Caleb’s jaw tightened.
Eleanor answered:
“Sometimes.”
The room became interested.
The attorney looked surprised.
“Sometimes?”
“Yes.”
“Did you have marital relations?”
The judge interrupted.
“Counsel.”
“It goes to authenticity.”
Eleanor’s cheeks burned.
Then anger replaced embarrassment.
She looked at the judge.
“I will answer if required.”
The judge considered.
“You are not required to detail private sexual conduct.”
“Good.”
Eleanor looked at the attorney.
“Then ask something intelligent.”
Someone laughed.
The judge hid a smile badly.
Fletcher did not.
The attorney changed direction.
“Did you maintain the household together?”
“Yes.”
“Accounts?”
“Yes.”
“Meals?”
“Yes.”
“Property decisions?”
“Yes.”
“Visitors?”
“Yes.”
“Shared expenses?”