Two markers waited there.
Her mother.
Her father.
Isaiah carried a shovel.
Clara stopped beside Charles Bennett's grave.
"This feels wrong."
Isaiah stood behind her.
"Then we leave."
"And let Carrow win?"
"No."
He placed the shovel against the tree.
"We find another way."
Clara stared at her father's name.
CHARLES BENNETT
1824–1876
BELOVED HUSBAND AND FATHER
She remembered his hands teaching her to hold a rifle.
His terrible singing.
The peppermint candies he kept in his coat.
The way he had sat beside her bed whenever thunderstorms frightened her.
People could be kind and still benefit from cruelty they chose not to examine.
That thought hurt more than simply believing him evil.
Clara picked up the shovel.
"Help me."
They dug beside the grave, not into it.
Thomas had known Clara would never forgive him for disturbing her father's remains.
Three feet down, Isaiah's shovel struck metal.
They uncovered a narrow tin box.
Clara's hands trembled as she opened it.
Inside lay another ledger.
Letters.
Three land maps.
And a sealed envelope bearing her name.
CLARA.
She recognized Thomas's handwriting.
She opened it beneath the moonlight.
Clara,
If you are reading this, I failed to tell you the truth myself.
There is no good way to write what I should have had the courage to say.
I worked for Carrow.
At first I told myself I was keeping accounts.
Then I told myself everyone cheated businessmen.
Then I told myself I needed the money.
Each excuse became easier than the last.
I did not become honest all at once.
I became ashamed slowly.
Clara stopped reading.
Isaiah looked away, giving her what privacy he could.
She continued.
Your father did not know the Ortega deed was fraudulent when he bought the ranch.
He discovered the truth two years later.
He confronted Carrow.
Carrow threatened to expose forged bank papers your father had signed during the purchase.
Charles believed he would lose the ranch and leave your mother and you homeless.
He remained silent.
He regretted that silence until the day he died.
Thomas had found letters between Charles and Manuel Ortega.
Her father had attempted to repay Ortega privately.
Ortega refused.
He wanted the land.
Charles had intended to return it.
Then Clara's mother became ill.
Then drought came.
Then Charles died.
Nothing was corrected.
Clara lowered the letter.
"My father knew."
Isaiah did not answer.
"He knew."
"I'm sorry."
She stared toward the grave.
"So am I."
A branch snapped near the barn.
Isaiah spun.