But what made my hands tremble was seeing Ezra Thornton's name at the bottom of several receipts.
"What do they say?" Neil asked, leaning closer to look over my shoulder.
"I think this is what I was looking for." I could barely contain my excitement as I carefully turned pages. "Look—here's Ezra Thornton himself, signing for special deliveries to Miller.”
“Who?”
“Ezra Thornton’s whose led me here. He wasn't just aware of the Underground Railroad operations. He must have been actively involved."
I pointed to another document. "This correspondence between Miller and known conductors in Boston matches the dates in Thornton's journal. When he wrote about 'moonless nights best for northern runs,' these receipts show large supply purchases the next day—food, blankets, shoes. All the things escaped slaves would need for the journey to Canada."
Neil's presence next to me was distracting in the best possible way. When he leaned down to examine the documents, I shivered.
"This one's interesting," he said, pointing to a map covered in symbols. "Those markers—I've seen some of them carved into trees around the mountain."
My excitement spiked. "Really? Where?"
"All over. Always thought they were old logging marks." He traced one symbol with his finger, careful not to touch the fragilepaper. "But this one here is carved into a huge oak about a quarter mile from my cabin. And this one's on the trail to what locals call the old Sherman place."
"Trail markers," I breathed. "They were marking safe routes through the mountain."
He straightened, and I immediately missed his proximity. "Want me to show you?"
"Yes." The word came out more breathless than I'd intended. "I mean, if you don't mind. This could just be a wild good chase. But I think we’re on to something. Maybe we could find more definitive proof."
"Kim." The way he said my name made me look up from the documents. "I don't mind. Any of this. Helping with your research, showing you the mountain, having you here."
The admission hung in the air between us, loaded with implications that made my pulse race. The space between us felt charged with things I’ve never experienced. I wanted him and the thought made me quiver with anticipation.
"I should probably get these documents photographed," I said, forcing myself to focus on practical matters instead of the way Neil was looking at me. "Create digital copies before the originals deteriorate further. Especially these ones signed by Thornton. I need to match these up to his journal."
"I've got a scanner in my office," Neil offered. "I use it for blueprints and such."
I shook my head quickly. "That's incredibly thoughtful, but we can't use a regular scanner on these. The heat and pressure from the scanning bed, plus the UV light would accelerate deterioration. Documents this fragile need to be photographed with specialized equipment."
"A digital camera then?" Neil suggested. "I’ve got a high resolution one in my workshop for taking pictures of samples for potential clients."
"That could work for preliminary documentation." I considered the options. "We'd need to set up proper lighting, keep the documents flat without pressing on them, maybe use your workshop table. It won't be archival quality, but it would at least capture the information before I can get them to a proper preservation lab."
He was already packing the strongbox carefully in waterproof material. "I've got LED work lights that don't generate heat. We can set up a photo station."
“You have everything I need,” I said.
“You got that right,” he said.
Somehow, I didn’t think we were talking about preservation any more.
Chapter 4
Kim
The hike back to Neil's cabin was challenging with the precious cargo. He carried the box of papers like it contained the crown jewels. Every few minutes, he'd check to make sure I was keeping up, his protectiveness extending to both me and the historical treasure we'd found.
By the time we reached his workshop, the afternoon sun was slanting through the trees, and my legs were trembling from exhaustion and excitement.
We spent the rest of the afternoon in his workshop, a space that took my breath away almost as much as Neil himself did. The attached barn had been converted into a craftsman's paradise. Hand tools were arranged with careful order. Lumber was sorted by species and grain. He had several work orders and works in progress that showed he made a good living making furniture for people all over the United States.
"How long have you been doing this?"
