Her body went cold.
“They were destroyed.”
“No.”
The man looked toward the shelves.
“We both know that isn't true.”
The mountain man’s jaw tightened.
“Who are you?”
Gray Coat looked amused.
“Someone who knew her before she became this.”
His eyes traveled over the woman’s body with deliberate contempt.
The mountain man stepped forward.
She caught his sleeve.
“Don’t.”
Gray Coat smiled wider.
“Still rescuing her?”
The mountain man looked at him.
“No.”
Then at the woman.
“She’s usually the one rescuing me.”
Gray Coat’s smile disappeared.
The marshal cleared his throat.
“I have an order authorizing recovery of company property.”
The woman stared.
“What company?”
Gray Coat produced papers.
The mill corporation.
Reorganized under a new name.
Now planning a suspension bridge project in Oregon.
They claimed the woman had retained proprietary engineering notebooks.
The irony nearly made her laugh.
The company that once accused her of falsifying calculations now claimed those calculations belonged to them.
The mountain man looked toward her.
“Do you have them?”
She said nothing.
That was answer enough.
Gray Coat stepped toward the shelves.
The mountain man blocked him.
The marshal touched his sidearm.
“Sir.”
The woman spoke sharply.
“Stop.”
Everyone looked.
She walked toward a floorboard near the stove.
Kneeled.
Lifted it.
Removed a wrapped packet.
Notebooks.
Dozens of pages.
Original calculations.
Original dates.
Bridge drawings.
Material substitutions.
Letters.
Everything.
Gray Coat’s face changed.
Hunger.
The woman saw it.
For years she had believed keeping those papers was cowardice.
Now she understood differently.
Evidence.
She stood holding the bundle.
“You want these?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
The marshal held out the order.
She looked at it carefully.
Then smiled.
The mountain man noticed.
That was not her warm smile.
That was the smile she used when someone had made a technical mistake.
“This order covers company property located at my residence.”
The marshal nodded.
“This is my residence.”
She looked around.
“No.”
Everyone stopped.
The mountain man looked at her.
Then understood.
They were inside his cabin.
Not hers.
The order named her town property.
Gray Coat stepped forward.
“That is a technicality.”
She smiled.
“Technicalities built your bridges.”
The mountain man nearly laughed.
The marshal read the paper again.
His expression darkened.
She was right.
He looked at Gray Coat.
“I can’t seize anything here.”
Gray Coat’s face hardened.
“Then get another order.”
He pointed toward the woman.
“Tomorrow.”
The woman’s stomach tightened.
Tomorrow.
The mountain man closed the door after they left.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then he looked at the notebooks.
“You kept everything.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”