Chapter 2 - The Cousin at the Table
“Say that again.”
Silas did not raise his voice.
He did not have to.
Everett Montgomery’s confident smile faded slightly.
“I said you should be careful.”
“That isn’t what you said.”
Eleanor stood near the kitchen doorway.
Every instinct she had developed during years of poverty told her to leave.
She knew this kind of conversation.
People discussed women like her when they believed women like her should not answer.
But Silas had called this her home.
Eleanor wanted to know whether he had meant it.
Everett took a drink.
“Fine. I said she’s after something.”
Silas looked toward Eleanor.
Not apologetically.
Not as though embarrassed by her presence.
He seemed to be asking silently whether she wanted to answer.
She did.
“What exactly am I after, Mr. Montgomery?”
Everett looked surprised.
“My cousin owns twelve hundred acres.”
“Fourteen hundred and sixty.”
Silas looked down, hiding the beginning of a smile.
Everett’s face tightened.
“He has cattle, crops, investments—”
“And significant seasonal expenses, two outstanding notes, and a west pasture requiring drainage.”
Everett stared.
“If I were hunting fortune,” Eleanor continued, “I would have chosen a less complicated one.”
Silas coughed into his fist.
Everett glared at him.
“You think this is funny?”
“A little.”
Eleanor returned to the table.
Everett leaned forward.
“You found this woman stealing.”
“Yes.”
“And brought her into your house.”
“Yes.”
“Good Lord, Silas.”
Eleanor quietly removed her apron.
Silas noticed.
“Where are you going?”
“To my room.”
“No.”
Everett’s expression brightened.
Then Silas continued.
“You’re sitting down and finishing your supper.”
Eleanor stared.
Silas turned toward Everett.
“If anybody leaves this table tonight, it won’t be Eleanor.”
The satisfaction vanished from Everett’s face.
“She’s an employee.”
“She manages this household and most of my accounts.”
“Which gives her access to your money.”
“And she’s saved me more money in eight weeks than you’ve saved me with ten years of unsolicited advice.”
Everett pushed his chair backward.
“You’re defending her.”
“Yes.”
The word was simple.
Final.
Eleanor felt it in a place she had spent years protecting.
Everett studied them.
Then his expression changed.
“Interesting.”
Eleanor disliked that word.
Everett remained at the ranch for three days.
He asked questions.
How much grain was stored?
Who handled payroll?
How much debt remained?
Had Silas recently changed his will?
At breakfast on the second morning, Silas lowered his newspaper.
“My will?”
Everett buttered toast.
“Father wondered.”
“Your father has been dead eight years.”
Everett paused.
Eleanor almost laughed.
“Then perhaps I wondered.”
“My will isn’t your concern.”
“Family should look after family.”
Silas folded the newspaper.
“Funny. I didn’t see much family when my father died and creditors surrounded this ranch.”
Everett’s expression hardened.
“That was different.”
“Was it?”
He changed the subject.
Eleanor did not forget.
On the fourth morning, Everett prepared to leave.
He found Eleanor alone beside the laundry line.
“You think you’ve won something.”
Eleanor continued folding a sheet.
“I wasn’t aware there was a contest.”
“There always is.”
“Then you appear to be competing alone.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Silas gets lonely.”
Eleanor stopped.
“Don’t mistake loneliness for affection.”
The words struck exactly where Everett intended.
She hated him for knowing where to aim.
He stepped closer.
“When he tires of playing rescuer, you’ll become exactly what you were when he found you.”
Eleanor met his eyes.
“Finished?”
Everett smiled.
“For now.”
His carriage disappeared down the road.
That night, Eleanor packed her suitcase.
She hated herself for doing it.
Everett was cruel.
That did not automatically make him wrong.
She had become comfortable.
Too comfortable.
The room felt like hers.
The kitchen felt like hers.
The porch felt like hers.
Silas’s footsteps had become familiar.
She knew how he liked his coffee.
She knew he hated turnips.
She knew he touched the brim of his hat whenever uncomfortable.
She knew he sometimes stood outside after midnight when memories of his father kept him awake.
And she knew that when Silas laughed, which was not often, something inside her warmed.
Hope was dangerous.
Hope made a borrowed life feel permanent.
A knock came.
“Eleanor?”
She closed her eyes.
“Come in.”
Silas opened the door.
His gaze immediately landed on the suitcase.
“No.”
She almost laughed.
“You don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You’re packing.”
“Yes.”
“Then no.”
“My trial period ended weeks ago.”
“I know.”
“We never discussed what happens afterward.”
“You stay.”
“That isn’t an employment arrangement.”
“Fine.”
Silas folded his arms.
“Three dollars a week.”
Eleanor stared.
“Three?”
“You saved me nearly six hundred dollars.”
“Five hundred eighty-seven.”
“See? This is why I need you.”
Despite herself, she smiled.
Then the smile faded.
“Everett was right about one thing.”
Silas’s expression changed.
“What?”
“I’ve become too comfortable.”
“That isn’t a crime.”
“For someone like me, it can be.”
“What does that mean?”
Eleanor looked around.
“At any moment, you can change your mind.”
“So can you.”
“It’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because everything belongs to you.”
Her voice tightened.
“This room. That kitchen. The bed I sleep in. The food I eat. My job.”
She swallowed.
“I have spent my entire life living where someone else could tell me to leave.”
Silas stared at her.
“You think I would?”
“I think people change.”
He was silent.
Then he nodded.
“You’re right.”
The answer hurt more than she expected.
Until he continued.
“So we’ll change the arrangement.”
The following morning, he took Eleanor into Harland.
They entered Nathaniel Price’s law office.
On the desk sat a contract.
One year of guaranteed employment.
Three dollars weekly.
Private lodging.
Meals.
A percentage of savings generated through her management.
Thirty days’ notice required from either party to end the arrangement.
Eleanor read it twice.
“You did this yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you said you needed something that belonged to you.”
Silas tapped the contract.
“Your position does.”
Her throat tightened.
She signed.
So did Silas.
Outside, Eleanor stopped him.
“Thank you.”
“You earned it.”
“I earned the job.”
She looked at the contract.
“You gave me security.”
Silas became thoughtful.
“Maybe everyone deserves enough security to discover who they are when they aren’t afraid.”
Eleanor looked at him.
The words stayed with her.
Autumn arrived.
Their evenings became routine.
Coffee.
Ledgers.
Arguments.
Occasional laughter.
Silence that no longer felt empty.
Then Silas returned from town carrying a parcel.
“For you.”
Eleanor opened it.
A dark green wool shawl.
Fine material.
Expensive.
“I can’t accept this.”
“Why?”
“It costs too much.”
“It didn’t.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“Winter’s coming.”
“I have a shawl.”
“That brown thing?”
“My mother made that brown thing.”
Silas immediately looked guilty.
“I didn’t know.”
Eleanor touched his arm.
“It’s all right.”
Silas looked down at her hand.
She quickly removed it.
“I’ll keep both.”
His gaze returned to hers.
“Good.”
The moment stretched.
Then the door opened.
Garrett Hale, the ranch foreman, entered carrying a telegram.
“Silas.”
Something in his voice changed everything.
Silas opened it.
His face hardened.
“What?” Eleanor asked.
He handed it to her.
The Harland County Bank had called one of his outstanding notes.
Immediately.
Amount due:
$3,800.
Eleanor looked up.
“This isn’t due until April.”
“I know.”
“Can they do this?”
“They just did.”
Garrett removed his hat.
“If you can’t pay?”
Silas looked toward the dark window.
“They can petition against the north acreage.”
“How much?”
“Nearly four hundred acres.”
Eleanor read the telegram again.
Something felt wrong.
Timing.
Amount.
Everett’s questions.
She turned.
“Who owns the bank?”
“Several investors.”
“Names?”
Silas understood.
The following morning Eleanor examined public filings.
Nine days earlier, a new investor had acquired enough shares to control the bank’s lending board.
The name was Everett Montgomery.
Eleanor slowly looked at Silas.
His cousin had never come merely to insult her.
Everett had come to inspect the ranch.
To find its weakness.
And now he intended to take four hundred acres from Silas.
But he had made one mistake.
May you like
He had assumed Eleanor Whitaker was merely the poor woman Silas found stealing corn.
He had no idea she had already begun studying every number that could destroy his plan.
