Their eyes met.
“Are you still?” he asked.
Clara swallowed.
“No.”
“Neither am I.”
Silas stood.
“And that scares me more.”
He kissed her.
Slowly.
Gently.
Clara froze.
Then her hands rose to his chest.
For several beautiful seconds, neither had a past.
Then Clara pulled away violently.
“No.”
Silas frowned.
“What?”
“I can’t.”
“Clara—”
“I said no.”
She fled the kitchen.
The next morning she disappeared.
Her horse was gone.
She returned near midnight.
Silas had waited on the porch.
“Where were you?”
“Town.”
“Twelve hours?”
“I had business.”
“What business?”
“Mine.”
He studied her.
“You regret yesterday?”
“Yes.”
The answer cut.
Clara saw it.
“No. That isn’t what I meant.”
“Then explain.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
She looked terrified.
Not uncertain.
Not embarrassed.
Terrified.
“Because if I explain, you might hate me.”
Silas stepped closer.
“I’ve buried people I loved. Lost everything I owned. Walked three days thinking my child would die on my back. Whatever secret you’ve got, Clara, I doubt it’s worse than what I’ve already survived.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“You don’t know that.”
Then she went inside.
Two days later, strangers arrived.
Three horsemen.
Their leader introduced himself as Vernon Pike.
He wore an expensive black coat despite the heat.
“Mrs. Higgins.”
Clara stepped onto the porch.
“What do you want?”
Pike smiled.
“Same thing I wanted last spring.”
“Answer hasn’t changed.”
Silas emerged from the barn.
Pike noticed him.
“And who’s this?”
“None of your concern.”
Pike dismounted.
“Everything on this ranch concerns me.”
Silas moved closer.
Clara blocked him slightly.
“Pike owns the land north of here.”
“Not for long,” Pike said pleasantly.
Clara’s face hardened.
Silas looked between them.
“What’s happening?”
Pike removed papers from his coat.
“Mrs. Higgins owes sixteen hundred dollars.”
Clara said nothing.
Silas stared.
“Is that true?”
Pike smiled wider.
“Her late husband borrowed against the property. Quite heavily.”
Silas turned to Clara.
“You never said anything.”
“It wasn’t your problem.”
“Seems like it is now.”
Pike handed her a notice.
“Thirty days.”
“For what?”
“Payment.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You already know.”
He looked around.
“I take the ranch.”
After they left, Silas confronted Clara.
“Sixteen hundred?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Three years.”
“You’ve been paying?”
“Interest.”
“How much can you raise?”
“Maybe nine hundred.”
Silas paced.
“Sell cattle.”
“I already sold half the herd last year.”
“Land?”
“Then the ranch dies slowly instead of quickly.”
He stopped.
“We’ll figure something out.”
Clara looked at him strangely.
“We?”
“Yes, we.”
“You don’t owe me this.”
Silas stepped toward her.
“You saved May.”
“I gave medicine to a sick child.”
“You saved me too.”
Her expression softened.
“You gave us a home.”
Clara whispered, “Silas…”
He took her hands.
“I don’t care how we got here.”
Her eyes filled.
“I do.”
Before she could continue, May screamed.
They ran.
The child stood in the upstairs hallway.
The locked door was open.
A key lay in her hand.
“May?”
“I found it in Miss Clara’s sewing box.”
Clara went white.
Inside the room stood a small bed.
A cedar chest.
Shelves filled with toys.
A rocking horse.
Dolls.
Children’s dresses.
May stared in wonder.
Silas stared in horror.
“This room…”
“I can explain,” Clara whispered.
He opened the cedar chest.
Inside were stacks of letters.
Newspaper notices.
Photographs.
Search advertisements.
All bearing one name.
ELIZA VALE.
Silas picked up a faded photograph.
Two girls stood beside a stern-looking man.
