“This belonged to my father.”
Elias opened it.
Inside was a handwritten record.
Clara leaned closer.
“What is it?”
“The original boundary agreement.”
Elias looked stunned.
Thomas nodded.
“My father told me never to show it to anyone unless they came asking for the truth.”
Clara looked at him.
“Why would you keep it hidden?”
“Because powerful people forget that paper can outlive them.”
Elias turned another page.
There it was.
The original description of the land.
Not empty.
Not abandoned.
Protected.
The railroad's entire legal claim depended on the land being classified differently.
Clara looked at Elias.
“We have them.”
“No.”
He closed the book.
“We have evidence.”
“Isn't that enough?”
“Not yet.”
He pointed toward the road.
“They have Washington.”
Clara smiled.
“Then we go to Washington.”
Elias stared at her.
“You're serious.”
“Very.”
The journey east took nearly two weeks.
They traveled by train, then wagon, then another train.
Washington overwhelmed Clara.
She had never seen so many buildings.
So many people.
So much noise.
They carried copies of the documents with them.
Every office they entered seemed to have another door.
Every door seemed to lead to another official.
And every official seemed to know nothing.
Finally, they found an attorney named Miriam Cole.
She listened carefully.
When Clara finished explaining, Miriam looked at the documents.
“Where did you get these?”
“From Thomas Bell.”
Miriam examined the handwriting.
“This is significant.”
Elias leaned forward.
“Can it stop the railroad?”
“It might.”
“Might?”
“Law isn't a gunfight, Mr. Redbird.”
Elias smiled.
“I know.”
“Then understand this. Evidence doesn't matter if nobody is willing to examine it.”
Clara asked:
“Who can make them examine it?”
Miriam looked at her.
“Congressional investigators.”
“Can we reach them?”
“If you have the right evidence.”
“We do.”
Miriam smiled.
“Then let's make some noise.”
They spent the next three days making copies.
They sent letters.
They contacted newspapers.
They spoke with reform groups.
They found former surveyors willing to testify.
Slowly, the story spread.
A railroad company had claimed land was empty.
But families lived there.
A federal map appeared to contradict an older agreement.
And a newly married couple had arrived in Washington carrying documents that might force the government to reconsider the entire route.
Charles Mercer was furious.
He sent a messenger.
The man found Clara outside the boardinghouse.
“Mr. Mercer would like to speak with you.”
“I have nothing to say to him.”
“He says you should reconsider.”
“About what?”
“You could be offered employment.”