Clara’s stomach tightened.
Henry said:
“There may be another possibility.”
“What?”
“The deed was intended but never delivered.”
Clara pointed at the letter.
“He told her to record it.”
“That supports delivery.”
“But a court decides.”
Nathaniel nodded.
“Who is the oldest living notary from that period?”
Henry thought.
“Amos Bell.”
“Still alive?”
“Ninety if he's a day.”
“Where?”
“Living with his daughter near Bozeman.”
Nathaniel turned toward Clara.
“We find him.”
Clara stared.
“We?”
“Yes.”
“This could cost you land.”
“I’m aware.”
“Nathaniel.”
“What?”
“Stop making it easy to trust you.”
His expression changed.
Henry became very interested in his papers.
Nathaniel lowered his voice.
“I don't know how.”
That answer followed Clara home.
Three days later Edward arrived.
She knew his horse before she knew his face.
Not because the horse was familiar.
Because Edward had always chosen black geldings.
He thought they looked dignified.
Clara stood beside the cabin.
Nathaniel happened to be repairing the final porch step.
Not because she needed him.
Because he had arrived with documents and then criticized the angle of one board.
Clara told him to fix it himself.
He did.
Edward rode into the clearing.
His eyes found Clara.
Then Nathaniel.
Then her belly.
His mouth tightened.
“Clara.”
Her body reacted before her mind.
Shoulders stiff.
Breathing shallow.
Nathaniel noticed.
He stood.
Clara immediately said:
“Stay there.”
Nathaniel looked at her.
She meant it.
He remained beside the porch.
Edward dismounted.
He looked exactly as she remembered.
Thirty-nine.
Clean coat.
Well-kept beard.
Gloves without work marks.
A man who could travel through mud without appearing to belong to it.
“You look…”
He stopped.
Clara waited.
Larger?
Poorer?
Uncontrolled?
“Different.”
“Excellent.”
“Is this how you speak to your husband?”
“You haven't acted like one in months.”
Edward’s gaze went to Nathaniel.
“And this is?”
Nathaniel said nothing.
Clara answered.
“Mr. Cross.”
Recognition changed Edward’s face.
“Cross.”
Nathaniel’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Edward recovered too quickly.
Interesting.
Clara noticed.
“So you know the name.”
Edward smiled.
“Everyone does.”
Nathaniel stepped from the porch.
Still several yards away.
Clara looked at Edward.
“Why are you here?”
“To take you home.”
She laughed.
The sound surprised all three of them.
Edward’s face tightened.
“Clara.”
“No.”
“You left without discussion.”
“I left after years of discussion.”
“You took money.”
“Half.”
“You took papers belonging to the household.”
Clara went still.
Nathaniel’s expression changed.
“There.”
Clara said softly.
“That is why you're here.”
Edward looked confused.
“What?”
“The tin box.”
“I’m here for my wife.”
“Then why mention papers before asking about the baby?”
Edward’s eyes flicked toward her stomach.
Too late.
Clara felt something inside her finally die.
Not love.
That had gone earlier.
Hope that Edward might ever become different.
“What papers?”
Nathaniel asked.
Edward looked at him.
“This is between my wife and me.”
Nathaniel’s voice remained calm.
“She asked me to stay.”
Clara had not.
But she appreciated the wording better than a claim of protection.
Edward stared.
“You’re living here?”
Nathaniel almost laughed.
“No.”
“Then perhaps leave.”
Clara said:
“He stays.”
Edward’s face changed.
There it was.
Not pain.
Possession challenged.
“Clara, enough.”
She almost flinched.
Almost.
Nathaniel saw the old reflex in her.
He did not move.
Clara inhaled.
“Do not speak to me like that.”
Edward stared.
“You’re pregnant, isolated, living in half a cabin, and apparently entertaining strange men.”
“Do not turn your failure into my shame.”
Nathaniel looked at her with naked admiration.
Edward saw.
He hated it.
“I know about the Cross deed.”
Silence.
Clara’s pulse jumped.
Nathaniel stepped forward once.
“How?”
Edward realized his mistake.
He recovered.
“Clara showed it to me years ago.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You found it.”
“Same difference.”
“No.”
Clara’s mind was moving now.
“You said it was worthless.”
“I believed it was.”
“Then why come to Montana asking about papers?”
Edward said nothing.
Nathaniel asked:
“Do you know Walter Kincaid?”
Edward’s face changed.
Small.
But enough.
Clara stared.
“You do.”
Edward exhaled.
“This is absurd.”
“Nathaniel.”
She turned.
“Did you see that?”
“Yes.”
Edward snapped:
“I met Kincaid on legitimate business.”
“When?”
Clara asked.
“Years ago.”
“After you found the deed?”
Silence.
“Edward.”
His jaw tightened.
“I was trying to determine whether your mother had left debts.”
“Debts?”
“Yes.”
“You never told me.”
“I was handling family business.”
“My family business.”
“You were my wife.”
Nathaniel’s face went cold.
Clara understood suddenly.
Edward had not simply found the papers.
He had investigated them.
Quietly.
While telling her they were worthless.
“Did you know about the spring?”
Edward did not answer.
“Did you?”
His silence was confession enough.
Clara felt sick.
“You knew.”
“I knew there might be a claim.”
“And you said nothing.”
“It wasn't useful then.”
“Useful to whom?”
Edward looked toward Nathaniel.