I understand you're upset. I understand how it must have looked."He gestured with one gloved hand, an expansive gesture designed to suggest that he was being generous with his time and his patience."Thomas was a good man. I want you to know that what happened at the mine. Don't she said he stopped. Don't say his name, she said.
Her voice was level. It was very level. You don't get to say his name. Ror looked at her for a moment. Then he changed angles.
The way he always changed angles when a direct approach meant resistance, not retreating, just finding the adjacent path. You have something that belongs to me, he said. A document that was filed incorrectly that has caused confusion in the transfer record. If you return it, I will ensure that you and your son are provided for. I'm prepared to be very generous.
You're prepared, she said, to keep doing what you've done. To take what isn't yours and call it paperwork, she tilted her head slightly. How many families Ror before mine? How many people took your offer because they didn't have the original document to prove the difference? Something shifted in his face.
The conversational warmth that he wore like a coat slipped fractionally, showing the thing underneath, not anger. Not exactly. Something colder than anger. Give me the deed, he said. No.
One of the men to his left moved slightly. Ror raised one hand without looking at him, and the man stilled. He kept his eyes on Mara. You can't walk, he said. You're alone.
And whatever you think you've arranged. She's not alone. The voice came from behind her. Not from inside the cabin, from the direction of the barn, from Orson's position, clear and unhurried. She didn't turn to look because she didn't need to, and because turning would mean looking away from Ror, which she was not going to do.
Ror's eyes moved to the barn. Came back to her. A rancher and an old man with a rifle, he said. That's what you've arranged. And something else, Mara said.