“For six years?”
“Yes.”
Elias looked between them.
“Is that good?”
Martha said:
“It means they treated your claim as valid when collecting money.”
Halbrook smiled.
“That matters.”
“How much?”
“Enough to argue equitable recognition.”
Elias blinked.
“Speak English.”
Halbrook laughed.
“The government cannot easily claim your boundary never existed after billing you according to that boundary for six years.”
Martha leaned back.
“Not enough to win.”
“No.”
“But something.”
“Yes.”
For three days they worked.
Martha found errors.
Missing seals.
Different handwriting.
Dates that did not align.
Elias watched her differently.
Not as a woman he wanted.
Not only.
As a partner.
That frightened him more.
At night, after Halbrook left, Martha remained at the table.
One evening Elias brought tea.
She looked up.
“You made this?”
“Yes.”
“It smells dangerous.”
“Drink.”
She did.
Winced.
“What did you put in it?”
“Tea.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Then the tea is defective.”
He laughed.
Martha smiled.
The laughter faded.
Their eyes remained.
The almost-kiss still lived between them.
Neither mentioned it.
Finally Elias said:
“Why did you come here?”
She knew he did not mean to the kitchen.
“Wyoming?”
“Yes.”
Martha looked into the cup.
“My brother married.”
“And?”
“His wife did not want me living with them.”
Elias’s face hardened.
“Because of your size?”
“Partly.”
“What else?”
“She wanted the room.”
“That’s it?”
Martha smiled.
“People don’t need complicated reasons to be cruel.”
He sat.
“Where were your parents?”
“Dead.”
“Other family?”
“No one willing.”
Elias stared toward the fire.
“So you came west alone.”
“Yes.”
“Stagecoach?”
“Mostly.”
“How long?”
“Twenty-three days.”
He looked at her in disbelief.
“What?”
She laughed.
“Wasn’t elegant.”
“I nearly got stuck getting out once in Nebraska.”
“A man offered butter.”
Elias frowned.
“Butter?”
“To grease the door.”
His expression darkened.
Martha laughed harder.
“It’s funny now.”
“No.”
“Elias.”