The bank clerk came to the cabin on a clear morning in September.
His name was Daniel Pike, and I recognized it from the ledger. He stood on the step with his hat in both hands, looking past me toward Cal.
"Miss Vale," he said. "I need to speak with you about your father's loan."
I let him inside.
Cal remained by the stove. I offered Pike a chair. He didn't sit.
"The bank is preparing for auction," Pike said. "I thought you should know that Mr. Voss has put in a private offer. If you accept, the sale can happen without a public auction."
"I already rejected his offer."
"You rejected a different offer."
He put a folded paper on the table. It was larger than the last one, more money than I had expected. The amount would cover the debt and leave me enough to live comfortably for sever
