The child had color in her cheeks again.

One meal.

That was all it took.

Mary understood then that whatever fears she carried, hunger was not an abstract danger.

It was sitting directly across from her.

“We’ll look at it,” Mary said.

Clara smiled.

And Mary silently prayed she wasn’t taking them into something worse.

They left Cedar Ridge beneath a sinking golden sun.

The prairie stretched endlessly around them.

Tall grass rolled like waves in the evening wind. Distant cattle moved across the horizon, small and dark beneath an enormous sky.

Clara sat between Mary and Ethan, fascinated by everything.

She pointed at hawks.

Counted fence posts.

Gasped when a jackrabbit burst from the grass.

Her laughter floated on the wind.

For the first time in days, Mary felt something dangerous stirring inside her chest.

Hope.

She looked toward Ethan.

His hands rested steadily on the reins.

“Why?” she asked.

He glanced at her.

“Why what?”

“Why help us?”

His eyes returned to the road.

Mary studied his face.

“You didn’t know me. You could have walked past that store like everyone else.”

He said nothing.

“Instead you offered food, a home…”

She hesitated.

“Marriage.”

Clara had gone quiet.

Even the wind seemed to fade.

“So why us, Ethan?”

His grip tightened almost imperceptibly around the reins.

For several seconds, he stared straight ahead.

Then he said,

“Because I’ve been waiting for you.”

Mary’s blood went cold.

“What does that mean?”

Ethan instantly seemed to regret the words.

“It means nothing.”

“It clearly means something.”

“Mary—”

“How do you know my name?”

He froze.

Mary had never told him her first name.

Not outside the store.

Not at lunch.

Not once.

Clara looked nervously between them.

Mary’s hand moved instinctively around her daughter.

“You called me Mary.”

Ethan exhaled slowly.

The wagon continued rattling beneath them.

“You’re right.”

“How do you know my name?”

He stared toward the horizon.

“I’ll explain when we reach the ranch.”

“No.”

Mary’s voice hardened.

“You’ll explain now.”

Ethan looked at Clara.

Then back at Mary.

“Not with your daughter listening.”

Fear climbed Mary’s spine.

“Turn the wagon around.”

“Mary.”

“Turn around.”

“If I wanted to harm you, I wouldn’t have brought you into town first, fed you, and offered you a choice.”

“I don’t know what you want.”

“No.”

His voice softened.

“You don’t.”

He pointed ahead.

A collection of buildings had appeared across the prairie.

A large white farmhouse stood among cottonwood trees, surrounded by barns, corrals, bunkhouses, and fenced pastureland.

Smoke curled from the chimney.

Lanterns glowed in several windows.

“It’s another ten minutes.”

Mary hesitated.

She could still demand he stop.

She could walk back to Cedar Ridge.

Five miles carrying Clara.

Into darkness.

Into cold.

She hated that poverty had reduced her choices so completely.

“Ten minutes,” she said.

“Then you tell me everything.”

Ethan nodded.

“Everything I can.”

That answer frightened her even more.

Double C Ranch was nothing like Mary expected.

It was prosperous without being extravagant.

The two-story farmhouse was sturdy, painted white, with a broad porch and blue shutters. A vegetable garden stretched beside the kitchen. Chickens wandered behind a low fence.

Three ranch hands crossed the yard and greeted Ethan.

None seemed surprised to see Mary.

That bothered her.

Then the front door flew open.

A girl with dark braids came running outside.