He walked out.
Margaret stood alone.
For the first time since arriving, Black Hollow felt foreign.
She spent the entire night reading.
Letters.
Deeds.
Photograph.
The photograph showed a young man beside a woman Margaret recognized instantly.
Her mother.
Eleanor.
Young.
Smiling.
Beside her stood a dark-haired man.
Jonathan Blackwood.
Margaret stared at his face.
Her nose.
His eyes.
Perhaps imagination.
Perhaps blood.
The deed was worse.
Clear language.
One-half interest to Jonathan Blackwood and his lawful heirs.
Another half to Samuel Blackwood and his heirs.
If valid, Margaret owned half Black Hollow.
Not because she married Elias.
Because she arrived carrying a claim stronger than she knew.
At dawn, she found another letter.
Her mother’s handwriting.
Margaret knew it despite decades.
Samuel,
Thomas will not allow Margaret to know. He says she is his daughter now and Jonathan is dead. I have tried to make peace for her sake, but I fear I have traded truth for quiet. If anything happens to me, please do not let her grow believing she came from no one who wanted her.
Margaret cried then.
Not politely.
Her enormous body shook in the chair.
She pressed the letter against her chest and sobbed for a mother she had spent twenty-three years believing chose silence.
Outside, men began morning work.
Margaret heard no Elias.
She eventually washed her face.
Then went to the bunkhouse.
Conversation stopped when she entered.
Twenty-two men looked at her.
Caleb stood.
“Morning.”
“Where is Elias?”
Ben pointed.
“North pasture.”
“When did he leave?”
“Before dawn.”
Margaret nodded.
Ben watched her.
“You two fight?”
“That is none of your business.”
“Understood.”
Caleb whispered:
“Definitely fought.”
Ben elbowed him.
Margaret almost smiled.
Almost.
She saddled a wagon instead of a horse.
The north pasture lay three miles away.
She found Elias repairing fence alone.
He saw her approaching.
Stopped hammering.
Margaret climbed down slowly.
The ground was uneven.
Elias instinctively moved to help.
Then stopped himself.
She noticed.
Good.
He waited.
Margaret held the deed.
“I own half.”
“Yes.”
“You never contested it.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“My father believed it was yours.”
“And you?”
Elias looked across the pasture.
“I spent twenty years working land I thought would become mine.”
“That is not an answer.”
“No.”
He turned.
“I believed if we found you, the land was yours.”
Margaret studied him.
“Even if I demanded sale?”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“Even if that destroyed Black Hollow?”
“Yes.”
She believed him.
That was inconvenient.
Margaret looked toward the cattle.
“You should have told me before I came.”
“I know.”
“You should have told me at the station.”
“I know.”
“You should have told me before I worked one day.”
“Yes.”
“You should have told me before you kissed me.”
His eyes closed.
“Yes.”
Margaret’s throat tightened.
“Why didn’t you?”
Elias looked at her.
“At first?”
“Yes.”
“Because I was afraid you would take the property and leave.”
“At first.”
She heard the distinction.
“And later?”