Hart came in from the bunkhouse twenty minutes later with his coat already buttoned and his satchel under his arm, which meant he'd been awake for hours already, which was consistent with everything Margaret had learned about how Daniel Hart operated: he didn't stop moving when there was work to be done. She respected that.
"The hearing date has been confirmed," Hart said, sitting down and spreading papers without preamble. "Fourteen days from today. Judge Aldridge from Laramie will preside. He traveled this circuit twice before his current appointment, so he knows the valley, knows the landholders, and—this is what matters—he is not a man who has ever ruled in Mercer's favor on anything I can find in the territorial record."
"Does Mercer know that?" Margaret asked.
"He does now. Which is why I expect Aldridge, Mercer's attorney, to file for a venue change or a judicial substitution within the next forty-eight hours."
"Can he get one?"
"He can try. I will counter with the documented fraud that makes Red Hollow the appropriate venue for this case." Hart looked at his notes. "What I need from you today, Mrs. Lawson, is a comprehensive written statement. Your account, in your own words, of every interaction you have had with Caleb Mercer since Henry's death. Every conversation, every demand, every threat, every instance of interference with your business and your neighbors' willingness to associate with you. All of it in chronological order."
"That's a long document," she said. "Can you write it today?"
"Yes."
"Good. Nathan," he turned, "I need you to speak formally with Pete McAllister and anyone else who witnessed the fence cutting or any other act of sabotage. And I need sworn statements, which means we need the justice of the peace."
"Walt Greer," Nathan said.
"Greer had a loan from Mercer's store account eight years ago, fully repaid, no remaining obligation," Hart said. "I checked before I came. He's clean."