When she repeated Elias’s words, Caleb’s hands stopped moving.
“Redford?”
“You know him?”
“I know of him.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means a man can own good land and still be worthless.”
Abby gave a humorless laugh.
“My father disagreed.”
Caleb looked at her.
“What?”
She almost told him about her father’s strange behavior before the wedding.
About the eight hundred dollars he had suddenly used to pay creditors.
About the document he pressured her to sign three days before the ceremony, supposedly transferring household goods to Elias.
Abby had refused because the wording confused her.
Her father had become furious.
She had never understood why.
Instead she said, “Nothing.”
Caleb watched her.
But again, he did not force the truth.
That was becoming dangerous.
Because Abby was beginning to love him for it.
The discovery happened in September.
Isaiah asked Abby to total cattle accounts because his eyesight had worsened.
Caleb kept meticulous records.
Purchases.
Brands.
Sales.
Losses.
But Abby had spent years balancing her father’s books.
Numbers spoke to her.
And these numbers were lying.
She found the first discrepancy before supper.
Seventeen cows purchased from Merritt Ranch.
Caleb’s ledger said seventeen.
The county transfer book said twenty-nine.
Twelve missing.
Then another.
Then forty-one.
Over six years, hundreds of cattle seemed to appear and disappear between ranches surrounding Bellweather.
Brands were altered.
Owners changed.
Sales were recorded twice.
And one name surfaced repeatedly.
Redford.
Elias Redford.
Abby worked until midnight.
Caleb found her at the table surrounded by papers.
“What happened?”
She turned a ledger toward him.
“Someone has been stealing cattle.”
Caleb’s face became unreadable.
“For how long?”
“Years.”
She showed him the pattern.
His jaw tightened.
“How did I miss this?”
“Because nobody was stealing only from you. They took small numbers from everyone and changed records afterward.”
Caleb studied her calculations.
“You’re certain?”
Abby tapped three entries.
“These brands were altered from Boone’s hook-B to Redford’s split-R. Same hand. Same ink.”
Caleb stared.
Then looked at her differently.
Not as a rescued woman.
Not as someone fragile.
As an equal.
“What else?”
Abby handed him another page.
“Money.”
“What money?”
“Payments listed as transport expenses. They total almost four thousand dollars.”
“To whom?”
She hesitated.
“I don’t know yet.”
The following morning they rode to Bellweather.
Marshall Gideon Hooper allowed them access to county shipping records.
By afternoon Abby found a receipt.
Eight hundred dollars.
Paid by Elias Redford.
Recipient:
Nathaniel Whittaker.
Her father.
Abby stopped breathing.
Caleb read over her shoulder.
“No.”
She shoved back from the desk.
“Abby—”
“He sold me.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Yes, we do.”
The amount matched the money her father suddenly possessed before the wedding.
Eight hundred dollars.
More than three years of wages.
Her marriage had never been romance.
It had been a transaction.
She walked outside before anyone could see her cry.
Caleb followed.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
