“Should I be?”
Elias’s gaze dropped for half a second.
Then returned to her eyes.
“Probably.”
Claire smiled slowly.
There was no fear in that smile.
Only exhaustion mixed with something warmer.
Elias stepped closer.
Not touching.
“Claire.”
“Yes?”
“You are in danger.”
“I’m aware.”
“You lost your husband recently.”
“Eleven months.”
He nodded.
“You don’t owe me anything because I helped you.”
Her expression softened.
“I know.”
“And I’m not going to take advantage of whatever fear is doing to you tonight.”
Claire studied him.
Then said:
“What if it isn’t fear?”
Elias’s jaw tightened.
“Then tomorrow it’ll still be there.”
Claire looked at him for a long moment.
Then nodded.
“Fair.”
She disappeared behind the curtain.
Elias returned to the table.
His hands shook slightly when he picked up the papers.
He blamed anger.
It was not entirely anger.
The next morning came bright and brutally clear.
The storm had scrubbed the sky.
Snow remained on the distant mountains.
Mud filled the ranch yard.
Claire emerged wearing Elias’s shirt beneath her dried shawl and the lower half of her cream dress.
He looked at her.
She looked at him.
Neither mentioned the curtain.
Elias slid coffee across the table.
“Morning.”
Claire sat.
“You said to ask after sunrise.”
He looked at her.
She continued.
“Do I still leave?”
Elias drank his coffee.
“No.”
Her shoulders lowered.
“Why?”
“Because I want the truth about my father.”
“That’s all?”
Elias stared at her.
“No.”
Claire waited.
He looked away.
“That’s all I’m willing to discuss before coffee.”
She smiled.
“Reasonable.”
They spent the morning sorting documents.
Claire knew her husband’s notation system.
Elias knew the county.
Together, patterns emerged.
Colson did not steal land randomly.
He targeted corridors.
Freight roads.
Water access.
Future rail routes.
The northern ridge of the Boone property sat above limestone and near a proposed spur line.
Elias understood suddenly why his father’s land mattered.
Claire found a page naming a storage office in Red Basin.
“Archive B.”
Elias looked over.
“What?”
“My husband mentioned it once.”
“He said Colson kept original instruments separate from active records.”
“Where?”
“Red Basin freight depot.”
Elias swore.
“That place is guarded.”
“I know.”
Claire looked toward him.
“We need originals.”
“For court?”
“Yes.”
“And someone who isn’t bought.”
Elias leaned back.
“That may be harder.”
The county judge owed Colson money.
The sheriff drank with Colson’s foreman.
The territorial land commissioner was two days away.