"Yes."
"Hollis wouldn't do that."
"You know Mr. Hollis, 20 years."
"Then perhaps he made a mistake."
Nathan took the receipt.
"He doesn't make mistakes."
Hannah picked up the duplicate.
"Neither do numbers."
That earned her the look she was beginning to recognize.
The one that meant Nathan wanted to argue, but had not yet found a reason good enough.
"Come to town with me," he said.
"For what?"
"To ask Hollis."
Hannah glanced toward the window.
"You going to ask him or accuse him?"
Nathan pulled on his gloves.
"Depends what he says."
She sighed.
"I'm coming."
The road into Pine Hollow had frozen hard enough overnight that the wagon wheels rattled over the ruts.
Hannah sat beside Nathan beneath a buffalo robe with the account book closed on her lap.
He drove without talking.
At the edge of town, the church steeple appeared above the roofs.
A blacksmith was already working his forge.
Two boys carried split wood behind Keller's store.
Smoke sat low over the street.
When they entered Hollis Supply, the place smelled of grain dust, lamp oil, leather, and dried apples.
Mr. Hollis came out from behind a stack of flour sacks.
He was narrow-faced and gray-haired, with spectacles riding low on his nose.
"Mr. Hollis."
His eyes moved to Hannah.
Nathan said, "Miss Whitaker keeps my accounts."
Hannah noticed the words.
Not helping.
Not looking over them.
Keeps my accounts.
Mr. Hollis smiled politely.
"What can I do for you, ma'am?"
Hannah opened the ledger.
"September 17th, 60 sacks of winter grain."
Hollis nodded.
"Sounds about right."
"Paid in full September 19th."
He adjusted his spectacles.
"Then there shouldn't be a problem."
She placed the October receipt beside it.
Hollis stared.
"That ain't mine."
Nathan's shoulders changed.
Hannah saw it before Hollis did.
"Easy," she said.
Nathan looked at her.
She kept her attention on Hollis.
"The paper came from your store?"
"Yes."
"The handwriting?"
Hollis took both slips and carried them toward the window.
He studied them.
"This first is mine."
"And the second?"
"Not mine."
"Who else writes receipts here?"
"My clerk sometimes. The freight agent if I'm loading."
"Name?"
"Willie Price, but he left in October."
"Where'd he go?"
Hollis frowned.
"Said he found work down south."
Nathan said, "Who arranged the freight?"
"Mercer's office."
Hannah's eyes lifted.
"Calvin Mercer?"
Hollis nodded.
"Most cattle freight runs through him now."
Nathan looked at Hannah.
Nothing was said.
Nothing needed saying.
On the ride back, they stopped twice.
Once at the south pasture, where Hannah insisted on comparing the cattle tally with Nathan's book.
Again at the east fence because one heifer stood apart from the herd.
Nathan barely looked at her.
"She's fine."
"She's favoring the left front."