The answer arrived in the form of a letter from a woman named Clara Whitcomb.
Clara had been Ada's closest friend.
She lived in Bellweather, above a small office where she kept accounts for farmers and merchants.
Rowan had met her once as a child.
She remembered a thin woman with silver hair and sharp eyes who had given her a peppermint candy and told her never to trust a man who spoke too loudly about his honesty.
The letter was brief.
Rowan,
Your aunt asked me to wait until you had spent some time on the farm before contacting you. She believed you would need to understand the land before you could understand her papers.
Come to my office tomorrow. Bring the maps.
Clara Whitcomb.
Rowan arrived the next morning.
Clara's office was crowded with books, ledgers, and rolled documents.
The older woman stood behind her desk.
"You look like your mother."
Rowan smiled.
"People say that."
Clara took the maps and spread them across the desk.
For nearly an hour, she examined them without speaking.
At last, she removed her spectacles.
"Your aunt was right."
"About what?"
"About the channels. About the boundaries. About Caldwell."
Rowan sat down.
"Can you explain?"
Clara opened a drawer and removed a thick folder.
Inside were copies of county surveys, tax records, and letters.
"Thirty years ago, the eastern marsh was considered valuable agricultural land. It supported grazing, poultry, and small vegetable farms. The waterways were part of a shared drainage system."
She placed a map on the desk.
"Then Elias Caldwell began purchasing property along the eastern ridge. He wanted to expand his grain operation."
"What happened?"
"Several drainage channels were blocked. The water backed up into the marsh. The smaller farms began flooding."
Rowan leaned forward.
"Was that legal?"
Clara shook her head.
"Not without permission."
"Did anyone object?"
"Your aunt did. She filed complaints. She wrote letters. She attended county meetings."
"What happened?"
Clara gave a bitter laugh.
"Nothing. Elias Caldwell had money, influence, and friends in the county office. Ada had a few geese and a stubborn disposition."
Rowan looked at the documents.
"Why didn't she take him to court?"
"She tried."
Clara opened another folder.
"The case was dismissed because the original survey could not be found."
Rowan's stomach tightened.
"Could not be found?"
"It disappeared from the county archive."
Clara leaned back.
"Your aunt believed it had been deliberately removed."
Rowan thought of the locked chest in the barn.
"She left me maps."
"Copies. But there was something else."
Clara reached into the folder and removed a small envelope.
Inside was a handwritten note.
The original survey is beneath the old stone marker. The water will show you where.
Rowan read it twice.
"The stone marker?"
Clara nodded.
"There was a boundary stone near the eastern channel. Ada believed the original survey had been hidden there."
"Why didn't she retrieve it?"
"She became ill before she could finish."
Rowan folded the note.
For a long moment, she stared at the desk.
Then she stood.
"I need to find it."
Clara placed a hand on her arm.
"Be careful. If Caldwell believes you have the original survey, he may try to take it."
Rowan looked at her.
"Then I suppose I should find it before he does."
The stone marker stood near the eastern boundary, half-buried beneath weeds.
Rowan found it after two days of searching.
It was taller than she expected, a weathered block of granite with a narrow groove carved down one side.
A faded letter A marked the northern face.
She knelt beside it.
The ground was soft.
Using a shovel, she cleared the earth around the base.
At first, she found only stones and roots.
Then her shovel struck something hollow.
She stopped.
Carefully, she removed the remaining soil.
Beneath the marker lay a narrow metal box.
The lid was rusted.
Rowan worked it loose with a hammer.
Inside, wrapped in oilcloth, was a rolled document.
She unfolded it.
The paper was fragile, but the writing remained legible.
It was the original survey.
And attached to it was a signed agreement confirming the location of the drainage channels.
Rowan sat back on her heels.
For several minutes, she could not speak.
She had found it.
The document that could prove the channels had been blocked illegally.
The document that could explain why her aunt had spent years fighting for the farm.
The document that might restore the value of the land.
She wrapped it carefully and carried it home.
But as she approached the farmhouse, she saw a wagon standing beside the barn.
A man she did not recognize was loading sacks into it.
Rowan ran.
"Stop!"
The man turned.
He was large, with a scar across his cheek.
"What are you doing?"
"Taking what's mine."
He reached for the document beneath her coat.
Rowan stepped back.
"Get away from me."
The man grabbed her arm.
She struck him with the shovel.
He cursed and released her.
Rowan stumbled toward the farmhouse.
The man followed.
Before he could reach her, a voice rang out from the road.
"Leave her alone!"
Silas Bell was standing beside his wagon, holding a shotgun.
The stranger froze.
Silas raised the weapon.
"I said leave her alone."
The man looked between them.
Then he ran toward the wagon and drove away.
Silas lowered the gun.
"Are you hurt?"
Rowan shook her head.
"Who was he?"
Silas looked toward the road.
"One of Caldwell's hired men."
Rowan tightened her grip on the document.
"How did you know?"
Silas sighed.
"Because I saw him in town yesterday. Asking questions about your aunt's property."
He glanced at the paper beneath her coat.
"Did you find something?"
Rowan nodded.
Silas looked toward the eastern boundary.
Then he removed his hat.
"Your aunt would have been proud."
For the first time since arriving in Bellweather, Rowan felt that she was no longer standing alone.
The news spread quickly.
By the following morning, half the town knew that Rowan Mercer had found an old survey.
By noon, the other half knew that Amos Caldwell was furious.
He arrived at the farm with two lawyers and a county official.
Rowan met them on the porch.
Caldwell held out his hand.
"The document."
"No."
"It may belong to the county."
"It was found on my property."
"That doesn't make it yours."
Rowan looked at the county official.
"Is that true?"
The official cleared his throat.
"That depends on the circumstances."
Clara Whitcomb appeared behind Rowan.
"The document is evidence in a land dispute. It must be examined by the court."
Caldwell turned.
"Mrs. Whitcomb."
"Mr. Caldwell."
He smiled coldly.
"This is a private matter."
"Not anymore."
Clara held up a copy of the survey.
"We have already filed a petition requesting an investigation into the obstruction of the eastern drainage channels."
The county official looked uncomfortable.
Caldwell's expression hardened.
"You have no proof that my company blocked anything."
Clara pointed toward the eastern fields.
"The channels are still there."
"They were altered decades ago."
"And the agreement remains binding."
Caldwell looked at Rowan.
"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."
Rowan met his gaze.
"Perhaps not. But I know what happened to my aunt."