Page 37 of September’s Cowboy Travis

His gaze moved lower on the page.

I pointed to the line. “But this is important. It wasn't just set aside for Margaret. The document specifically says Margaret Whitaker and her lawful descendants.”

He looked at me. “Descendants.”

“Yes. Whoever created the arrangement intended it to continue after her.”

“That why the account's still around?”

“That's my best explanation for now. The old parcel eventually became part of the larger Kincaid tract you're leasing, but the financial obligation apparently survived somewhere underneath the modern records.”

“So that's where my five grand came from.”

“Exactly.”

He handed the paper back. “And nobody knows who Margaret was.”

“Not yet.”

I showed him the later notation. “We know one more thing. Margaret Whitaker eventually became Margaret Hale. Does that mean anything to you?”

“No.” Travis glanced at the page again before returning his attention to the fence. “I guess that gives Morgan something else to for.”

I slid the document back into my folder while Travis picked up the fencing pliers.

“So now what?” he asked.

“I finish the report.”

“And then?”

I watched him tighten the wire before answering. “I go home.”

His hands stopped for a second before he pulled the wire taut again. “To Bozeman.”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Probably tomorrow.”

He nodded and tested the repaired section of fence with his palm.

I waited.

Travis found another piece of wire.

“You knew I’d be going back,” I said.

“Yeah.”

“But you sound surprised.”

“I’m not.” He bent toward the fence again and started working the wire like the conversation was over.

I closed the folder. “Travis.”

“What?”