Henry Flint Whitehorse's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

Henry climbed the wooden ladder to the barn loft, dust swirling in the dim light. The first trunk held old farming receipts and seed catalogs from the 1960s. Nothing useful. The second trunk sat beneath a stack of grain sacks. He dragged it into the open and lifted the lid. Inside lay his grandmother's handwriting on dozens of letters, all addressed to different family members. He pulled out the first bundle and started reading. Catherine had written to everyone in the months before she died. Someone in these letters would reveal themselves. Rain started drumming on the barn roof. Henry grabbed a metal lockbox from the corner shelf and transferred the most important letters inside. The rust-resistant latch clicked shut, sealing the papers from the moisture that dripped through the old wood above. He carried the box down the ladder and set it on his truck's passenger seat. These documents needed proper examination, not a quick scan in a dusty loft. Back at his campsite near the property line, Henry set up a work desk under the tarp he'd strung between two trees. The integrated lights cast a warm glow across the wooden surface as darkness fell. He spread the letters out in chronological order. His grandmother had written about land boundaries, family disagreements, and her plans for the will. One letter mentioned a nephew who'd asked too many questions about the property value. Another referenced a cousin who'd visited the county clerk's office three times in one week. Henry packed the letters back into the lockbox. Tomorrow he'd drive to the property clerk's building in town. The whitewashed stone structure held all the official inheritance documents and land deeds. If someone had forged papers, there would be records of who'd filed what and when. He turned off the desk lights and stared at the dark outline of his grandmother's farm. The answers were close now. He just had to follow the paper trail.