But according to Rose’s letter, ownership was held in trust.

For Evelyn.

Until her twenty-fifth birthday.

Evelyn was twenty-seven.

She unfolded the next document.

A deed.

Another.

A notarized trust agreement.

And finally a letter signed by her father.

James spoke quietly.

“My father was one of the trustees.”

Beatrice stared at him.

James continued.

“When Evelyn turned twenty-five, my father attempted to contact the family.”

“I never received anything,” Evelyn whispered.

James looked toward Beatrice.

“No.”

The meaning settled across the room.

Evelyn slowly turned.

“Did you intercept his letters?”

Beatrice said nothing.

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

Grace began sobbing.

Evelyn felt hollow.

“You let me work land that belonged to me while telling me I was lucky to have a roof.”

Beatrice’s eyes flashed.

“I kept this family alive!”

“You kept me ignorant.”

“I fed you!”

“With grain bought from my fields?”

Beatrice flinched.

Evelyn held up the deed.

“You told me I contributed nothing.”

“I was angry.”

“You told me no man would want a woman who smelled like horses.”

“Evelyn—”

“You sold my horse.”

Beatrice started crying.

Evelyn’s voice grew quieter.

Somehow that made it more terrible.

“You made me serve my own sister’s engagement dinner in a house sitting on land that belonged to me.”

No one moved.

Then Victor laughed.

It was soft.

Almost disbelieving.

“All very touching.”

James looked at him.

Victor buttoned his coat.

“But legally irrelevant.”

Evelyn turned.

Victor gestured toward the papers.

“An old trust is only as good as its registration. If the transfer wasn’t recorded properly, Beatrice has maintained possession for nearly fifteen years.”

James said, “The transfer was recorded.”

Victor’s smile vanished.

“Where?”

“Laramie County.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It does if Thomas Harrow suspected someone might tamper with the local records.”

Beatrice looked sharply at James.

He continued.

“My father kept certified duplicates.”

Victor’s expression turned dangerous.

“You came prepared.”

James met his gaze.

“I came suspicious.”

Then Grace did something no one expected.

She began laughing.

Not happily.

Bitterly.

Victor stared at her.

“What exactly is funny?”

Grace wiped her tears.

“You.”

“Grace.”

“You told me there was no trust.”

His face hardened.

The guests looked between them.

Grace reached beneath the folds of her blue dress.

From a hidden pocket she withdrew a folded piece of paper.

Victor went white.

Evelyn had never seen fear transform a man so quickly.

Grace unfolded it.

“I found this in Victor’s coat six weeks ago.”

Beatrice whispered, “Grace, what are you doing?”

“Something I should have done long ago.”

She looked at Evelyn.

Then at the guests.

“It’s a letter Victor wrote to his father.”

Victor moved toward her.

James stood instantly.

Victor stopped.

Grace read aloud.

“Once the marriage is completed, Beatrice will transfer the southern acreage as Grace’s dowry. If the railroad selects the Whitmore spring as expected, we can sell the water rights for ten times the current valuation.”

The room exploded.

Victor shouted, “That letter is private!”

Grace kept reading.

“The older girl remains unaware of the original trust. Beatrice says she can be controlled.”

Evelyn’s blood turned cold.

Grace lowered the letter.

Victor looked at Beatrice.

Every guest followed his gaze.

Beatrice backed away.

“I never agreed to that.”

Victor laughed sharply.

“You agreed to enough.”

Grace’s engagement ring came off.

She placed it on the table.