The clerk continued to write. "We are here to see Mr. Thornne," Eli said louder. The clerk paused, dipping his pen. He looked up, his eyes sliding over Eli and landing on Clara.
He took in her frayed shawl. The wind burned flush on her cheeks, the way she stood slightly behind the man. He curled his lip. "Mr. Thorne is busy with respectable clients," the clerk said, returning to his paper.
Deliveries go to the back alley. Clara felt the heat rise in her neck, the familiar burn of shame. She started to turn away, the instinct to hide kicking in. Eli's hand slammed onto the desk. The inkwell jumped.
My wife is not a delivery, Eli said. His voice was not a shout. It was a landslide. She is Mrs. Eliqincaid, and you will look her in the eye when you speak to her.
The clerk recoiled, his face paling. The door to the inner office opened, and a man stepped out. Marcus Thorne was not what Clara expected. He was a man who looked like he had not slept in a week. His vest was unbuttoned, his sleeves rolled up, and his gray hair stood up in tufts as if he had been pulling at it.
He held a pair of spectacles in one hand. "What is the noise? " Thorne asked, his voice weary. "We have evidence of fraud and theft against Harland Pike," Eli said, turning to him. "And we have proof of judicial corruption in Red Rock. " Thorne stopped wiping his glasses. He looked at Eli.
Really looked at him, measuring the desperation and the resolve. Then he looked at Clara. Pike, Thorne muttered, "I have been trying to nail that coffin for 2 years. Come in in the office. " Thorne listened as Clara laid out the story. She spoke of the letters, the fence cutting, the intimidation.
She showed him the pages from Sarah's stolen ledger. Thorne rubbed his temples. "It is a pattern. I know it is. Pike moves cattle across the border, rebrands them, and sells them as legitimate stock.
He uses the profits to buy water rights and squeeze out the small holders. But this, he tapped the ledger page. This is hearsay. It is a page without a book and your testimony. He hesitated, looking at Clara with a sad kindness.
Mrs. Conincaid, a jury will look at your history. Pike's lawyers will tear you apart. They will paint you as a woman of low morals with a grudge. Unless we have a corroborating witness.
Someone else who saw the operation? Clara went cold. There was one. Sarah, but she is dead. Anyone else?