Neither did she.
That morning, Hannah carried every paper from the trunk to the table and began again from the beginning.
Not the recent ledgers.
The old ones.
Her father had kept poor records when she was young, which was why she had taken over so much of the work as she grew older.
His handwriting wandered across margins.
Figures were scratched beside cattle brands.
Notes appeared where they had no business being.
She knew his habits.
That helped.
By noon, she had spread seven years across the table.
Nathan came in for coffee and stopped in the doorway.
"You leave me anywhere to eat?"
"One corner."
He looked at the papers covering the rest.
"That's generous."
"Don't get used to it."
He poured coffee.
Hannah had already improved it by cutting the amount nearly in half.
Nathan had complained for three mornings and drunk every cup.
He sat at the far end of the table.
"What are you looking for?"
"I don't know."
"That's helpful."
She ignored him.
The thing bothering her was Peter.
He had seen the trunk and gone pale before any burglary happened.
That meant he knew or suspected that something inside mattered.
Hannah pulled a ledger from five years earlier.
Nothing unusual.
Then another.
She found a loose page tucked between entries for spring calving and a grain delivery.
The handwriting was her father's, not the neat hand he used when he expected someone else to read it.
This was cramped.
Quick.
She leaned closer.
Nathan noticed.
"What?"
"Wait."
The note listed cattle transferred from Whitaker land to a neighboring range under a temporary grazing agreement.
Twenty-six head, then beneath it in darker ink:
Mercer says 19 returned, claimed seven lost in storm.
No carcasses found.
Hannah read it twice.
She pulled another ledger.
Two years later, another note.
Lease altered after signature. CM says clerk's error.
She reached for the next book.
Nathan had stopped drinking his coffee.
By mid-afternoon, she had a small stack.
Brand transfers.
Freight differences.
Unexplained grazing fees.
Three references to Calvin Mercer.
Two references to Black Pine Ranch.
Nathan moved beside her.
"Let me see."
Hannah handed him one sheet.
His eyes narrowed.
"That's my north pasture."
"I know."
"You knew that."
"I know where your lease lines are now."
He looked at her.
She returned to the paper.
"This says father recorded 17 Black Pine cattle moving through Whitaker winter ground."
Nathan shook his head.
"Never arranged that."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"Could Jacob have?"
The room changed.
Nathan's face closed a little.
"Maybe."
Hannah nodded and did not press.
She kept reading.
Then she found the folded note.
It had been tucked inside the back cover of an account book so old the leather had gone soft at the corners.
Her father's name was written across the outside.
Not addressed to anyone.
Just:
If anything happens.
Hannah's fingers stopped.