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against the back of the chair. “This lien is very interesting.”
    Burkhart stiffened. His head cocked to one side as he studied what he could see of Standish’s face in the shadow of that wide-brimmed hat. He could see only Standish’s lips moving as the stranger said, “This lien was taken out…let’s see on the twelfth of December.”
    Burkhart regained his confidence. “Notarized. Right there,” he said, pointing to the seal stamped into the page. “That proves that the lien was filed on the twelfth.”
    â€œYes it does.” Standish said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. “This is Mr. Bele’s death certificate. Estimated time of death was the tenth of December. Hell of a man, Mr. Bele was, to walk in here two days after he died and borrow $500 on his property.”
    Standish leaned back in his chair.
    Burkhart’s shoulders were shrugging as though he had a facial tic that had migrated down his spinal cord. “That’s an estimate. Bell lived alone. How could anyone possibly know when he died?”
    Standish sighed and settled into his chair. “You’re right. Living alone like that it’s impossible to know when he died.”
    Burkhart sneered. “We’ve established then that the lien is valid and you will have to pay it in full if you want to establish any claim to that land.”
    A smile appeared below Standish’s wide-brimmed hat. “Quite to the contrary, sir, we have proven that the lien is bogus, fraudulent.”
    A dull red spread across the banker’s face. “I have no more time for this. If you want to establish a bona fide claim on the land, you must pay the lien. That’s all I have to say on the matter. Leave now, or I shall call the sheriff. He shall deal with you as ruffians such as yourself should be dealt with. I have more important things to do.”
    â€œThank you,” Standish said. “That will save me the trouble.”
    â€œThe trouble?”
    â€œThe trouble of calling the sheriff myself.”
    â€œAnd what business do you have with the sheriff?”
    â€œI’ll file charges of fraud against you.”
    â€œI tire of this charade.”
    â€œGood, I’ll try to make this as simple as possible so we can move on. First, we don’t know when Bele died, but we do know that he died before this lien was filed. His body was found on the tenth. There’s no way of knowing how long before that he died.”
    Burkhart’s eyes were chasing dust motes through the air. “I don’t see how this.…”
    â€œOf course you do, but there are some points you might not know. The lien is signed with an X.”
    â€œYes, most of these honyockers can barely speak English, let alone write it.”
    Standish interrupted, “But Bele was a very well-educated man. He wrote a large part of a journal—in English.”
    â€œBut.…”
    â€œAnd you misspelled his name. Not smart, Burkhart to misspell a name on a lien.”
    Burkhart’s voice rose until it was little more than a squeak. “You will hear from my attorney.”
    â€œYou don’t want to deal with my attorney.” Standish replied, an edge creeping into his voice.
    â€œA vagabond like you with an attorney? I have never heard of anything so ridiculous.”
    â€œThe county attorney will represent me,” Standish said. “The charge will be fraud.”
    Burkhart slumped back in his chair. He leaned back, staring at the ceiling as though looking for an answer there. Finding none, he leaned forward and whispered, “I’ll destroy the lien.”
    â€œNo,” Standish said. “You will write me a release of lien that I can file with the county clerk.”
    â€œI will not.…”
    â€œYou will, and you will notarize it.”
    Burkhart shrunk, his suit wrinkling about him. He pulled a form from his desk and slashed