He turned another page.
Then he found a name.
Mercer.
Bell.
And another.
Harlan.
Cole knew that name.
Everyone in the valley did.
Judge Everett Harlan.
The richest man in the county.
The man who owned half the land surrounding Cole's ranch.
The man who had been trying to buy Cole's property for years.
Cole slowly closed the ledger.
"Something happened here."
Clara nodded.
"Yes."
"And my father knew."
"Yes."
"And your mother knew."
"Yes."
Cole looked at the cabin.
For eight years he had believed his father's death had been the end of an old story.
Now he understood.
It had only been the beginning.
By sunset, Cole and Clara had moved the box into the corner of the cabin.
They needed answers.
But they also needed to be careful.
If the ledger contained evidence against Judge Harlan, then whoever had hidden it had believed that revealing the truth could be dangerous.
Cole knew Harlan.
He knew the man's reputation.
Harlan never threatened anyone directly.
He didn't need to.
He had money.
Connections.
Friends in the courthouse.
Friends in the sheriff's office.
And enough influence to make trouble disappear.
Cole poured coffee into two tin cups.
Clara sat across from him.
"Tell me everything your mother said."
Clara stared into the cup.
"She said your father tried to help her."
"With what?"
"The land."
Cole waited.
"My grandfather owned a large parcel near the eastern river. When he died, the property was supposed to pass to my mother."
"Supposed to?"
"Yes."
Clara took a folded document from her bag.
"He had a legal deed."
She placed it on the table.
"But someone changed the records."
Cole examined the paper.
The seal was faded.
The signature looked legitimate.
"Why would Harlan care?"
"Because the eastern river runs through that land."
Cole immediately understood.
Water.
In the West, water could be worth more than gold.
If Harlan controlled the river, he could control every ranch downstream.
"Your father discovered the land fraud," Clara continued.
"And my father helped him."
"Yes."
"What happened?"
"My mother said they found proof."
"Where?"
"The cabin."
Cole looked around.
"That's why he buried the evidence."
Clara nodded.
"But someone found out."
Cole turned to the ledger.
"And that's why your mother disappeared."
"She didn't disappear."
Cole looked at her.
"She died."
Silence filled the room.
"I'm sorry."
Clara looked toward the fire.
"She was killed."
Cole's expression hardened.
"How?"
"A wagon accident."
"Accident?"
"That's what the sheriff called it."
"You don't believe that."
"No."
"Why?"
"My mother knew how to drive a wagon."
Clara looked at him.
"She was afraid before she died."
Cole sat back.
"Afraid of Harlan?"
"I think so."
The fire cracked.
Outside, wind moved through the pines.
Cole looked toward the dark window.
"We should leave at dawn."
Clara frowned.
"Why?"
"Because if someone discovers we're here, we need to be somewhere safer."
"I've lived here for three weeks."
"Exactly."
She smiled faintly.
"You worry too much."
"No."
Cole stood.
"I don't worry enough."
That night, neither slept well.
Sometime after midnight, Cole heard a horse.
He immediately woke.
He reached for his revolver.
Clara was already sitting up.
"Someone's outside."
Cole nodded.
They extinguished the lamp.
Footsteps approached the cabin.
Slow.
Careful.
Then the door handle moved.
Cole raised his gun.
The door opened.
A man stepped inside.
Cole fired into the ceiling.
The stranger froze.
"Don't."
The man raised his hands.
"It's me."
Cole recognized him.
Deputy Amos Reed.
"What are you doing here?"
Reed looked past him.
His eyes landed on Clara.