“When did you know?”
“The second night.”
“How?”
“May talks in her sleep.”
Silas frowned.
“She said her mother used to sing her a song.”
Clara began singing softly.
A melody Silas had heard Sarah sing hundreds of times.
An old lullaby.
May smiled.
“Mama’s song.”
Clara’s voice broke.
“My mother sang it to us.”
Silas sat heavily.
“You should have told me.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because you would think exactly what you thought when I said I wanted a daughter.”
Clara held May tighter.
“That I wanted to take her.”
Silas said nothing.
“I was terrified you’d leave before I could know her.”
The confession was selfish.
And completely human.
Silas understood it.
But understanding did not erase pain.
“I need time.”
Clara nodded.
“You can have all of it.”
Silas planned to leave.
He packed the next morning.
May refused.
“This is Aunt Clara’s house.”
“It’s her ranch.”
“She’s family.”
“May—”
“And you love her.”
Silas froze.
Children noticed more than adults wanted.
May folded her arms.
“I’m staying.”
“You’re four.”
“Almost five.”
“Still four.”
May climbed onto the bed.
“I won’t go.”
Silas rubbed his face.
Eventually Clara entered.
“I’ll talk to her.”
Silas shook his head.
“No.”
He looked around the room.
“Maybe I’m the one who needs talking to.”
They walked outside.
For a long time, they stood beside Sarah’s favorite thing without knowing it.
Sunflowers.
Clara had planted them along the fence weeks earlier.
Silas had not asked why.
Now he knew.
“She always planted them,” he said.
Clara smiled through tears.
“So did our mother.”
Silas turned.
“Sarah never spoke about you.”
“She believed I abandoned her.”
“No.”
“I did abandon her once.”
“You came back.”
“Too late.”
Silas shook his head.
“Clara, I spent months blaming myself for Sarah’s death.”
She looked at him.
“I thought if I had earned more money, gotten medicine sooner, chosen better land…”
His voice softened.
“Guilt is greedy. It eats whatever you feed it.”
Clara’s eyes filled.
“I don’t know how to stop.”
“You start by not losing what’s standing in front of you because you’re staring backward.”
She understood.
“So you’ll stay?”
Silas smiled faintly.
“I reckon the moon still needs straightening.”
Clara laughed.
Then he kissed her.
This time, she did not run.
Vernon Pike returned four weeks later.
With a sheriff.
And foreclosure papers.
Clara had raised only eleven hundred dollars.
They were five hundred short.
Silas had sold everything he possessed.
It amounted to thirty-two dollars.
The sheriff removed his hat apologetically.
“Mrs. Higgins, unless payment is made by sundown, Mr. Pike assumes ownership.”
May clung to Clara.
Silas stepped toward Pike.
“You planned this.”
Pike smiled.
“I conduct business.”
“You bought the debt.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Pike looked toward the western pasture.
“Railroad survey came through last month.”
Clara stiffened.
“What?”
“Rail line will pass less than two miles north.”
Silas understood.
The land was about to become worth several times its current value.
“You knew.”
Pike shrugged.
“Knowledge is profitable.”
Silas wanted to hit him.
Clara caught his arm.
“No.”
Pike checked his watch.
“Four hours.”
Then he left.
Clara sat on the porch.
“I’m sorry, May.”
May climbed into her lap.
“Where will we go?”
Clara could not answer.
Silas stared across the ranch.
He thought of walking west.
Nebraska.
Sarah.
Promise.
Family.
Then an idea struck.
“The debt came from your husband?”
“Yes.”
“What was his full name?”
