Chapter 13 - The Woman Who Wouldn’t Be Bought
The answer arrived the following afternoon.
Not voluntarily.
Clara saw the young man near the barn first.
Sixteen.
Thin.
Dark-haired.
Nervous.
He had tied his horse behind a stand of cottonwoods as though hoping no one would notice.
Clara stepped onto the porch.
“Can I help you?”
The boy startled.
“I need Mr. Caldwell.”
“Name?”
He hesitated.
“Henry.”
Clara understood.
“Henry Rusk?”
Fear flashed.
“Please don’t send me back.”
Ten minutes later, Henry sat in the kitchen holding a cup of water with both hands.
Everett stood near the stove.
Nathaniel leaned against the wall.
“What happened?” Everett asked.
Henry looked at Clara instead.
“My mother said she came here.”
“Yes.”
“Father knows.”
Everyone became still.
“How?” Clara asked.
“He followed her.”
Everett swore quietly.
“Where is Miriam?”
“At home.”
“Is she safe?”
Henry hesitated.
“He hasn’t hurt her.”
Clara heard the qualification.
“Has he threatened her?”
“Yes.”
Everett reached for his hat.
Clara blocked him.
“Think.”
“He threatened Miriam.”
“And if you arrive angry, what happens to Henry?”
Everett stopped.
Henry looked ashamed.
“He told Mother he would send me east tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“School.”
“You don’t want to go?”
“No.”
Nathaniel crouched near the boy.
“Did you hide the map?”
Henry looked up sharply.
Everett stared.
“Henry?”
The boy nodded.
“I saw it in Father’s office.”
“How did you get into Eleanor’s room?”
“My mother had a key.”
Everett closed his eyes briefly.
Of course she did.
Sisters.
“She gave it to me,” Henry continued. “She said if anything happened, I should hide the survey where you’d find it.”
“And N.C.?”
“My mother told me to write that.”
“Why those initials?”
Henry looked confused.
“She said you’d understand.”
Everett looked at Nathaniel.
They did not.
Not yet.
Henry reached into his shirt and removed folded paper.
“I brought something else.”
A telegram.
Nathaniel opened it.
His face changed.
Railroad representatives would arrive in Red Hollow August twenty-fourth.
Two days after the court hearing.
One day after Rusk’s accelerated debt deadline.
Everything was timed.
Rusk intended to acquire Everett’s land before the railroad publicly negotiated rights.
“How much could the right-of-way be worth?” Clara asked.
Nathaniel estimated.
“Ten thousand. Maybe twenty. More over time.”
Everett laughed bitterly.
“So he offers me ten for the entire north range.”
“Because he expects to make it back immediately.”
Henry looked miserable.
“I’m sorry.”
Everett softened.
“You didn’t do this.”
“My father—”
“Is not you.”
The sentence changed the boy’s face.
Clara saw it.
Perhaps no adult had told Henry that before.
They hid him at the ranch.
Marta agreed to keep him in her family’s guest room on neighboring property until after the hearing.
Miriam received a coded message through Dr. Aldridge assuring her Henry was safe.
Two days later, Gideon Rusk came for Clara.
Not Everett.
Clara was in Red Hollow buying supplies when Rusk approached outside the post office.
“Miss Whitmore.”
She kept walking.
“I’d like a word.”
“I’m short on words today.”
“You’ll find these profitable.”
That made her stop.
Rusk indicated the hotel dining room.
“No.”
“Public place.”
“So is the street.”
His smile thinned.
“Very well.”
He handed her an envelope.
Clara did not take it.
“What is it?”
“Five hundred dollars.”
Her breath caught despite herself.
Five hundred.
More money than Clara had ever possessed.
Perhaps more than she had ever earned in years combined.
“For what?”
“To leave Red Hollow.”
She laughed.
Rusk did not.
“You’re serious.”
“Entirely.”
“Why?”
“You’ve made yourself inconvenient.”
“By reading?”
“By influencing Everett.”
Clara’s expression hardened.
“I don’t control him.”
“You underestimate yourself.”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“You overestimate your understanding of people who don’t fear you.”
Rusk’s smile vanished.
“Everyone fears something.”
“Yes.”
“What do you fear, Miss Whitmore?”
Clara thought of poverty.
Loneliness.
Public humiliation.
Being abandoned.
Being wanted only for what she could do.
She said, “Bad coffee.”
Rusk’s jaw tightened.
“Take the money.”
“No.”
“One thousand.”
Clara stared.
“One thousand dollars to leave a man you’ve known a month.”
The amount made her dizzy.
She could buy a small house.
Start a business.
Never scrub another stranger’s floor.
Never wonder where next week’s meals came from.
Rusk saw hesitation.
His smile returned.
“That’s what I thought.”
Clara looked at the envelope.
Then at him.
“You think because I’m poor, I’m cheap.”
His smile disappeared.
“There’s a difference.”
She walked away.
Rusk caught her arm.
Not violently.
But without permission.
Clara looked down at his hand.
Then into his face.
“Remove it.”
Something in her voice made him obey.
“Everett will lose that ranch.”
“Maybe.”
“And then what will you have?”
Clara’s answer came without thought.
“Myself.”
She walked away.
Everett found out before she returned home.
Red Hollow was remarkably efficient when scandal had transportation.
He waited on the porch.
“Rusk offered you money.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“One thousand.”
Everett stared.
“And you refused?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The question offended her.
“Why do you think?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s clear.”
“Clara.”
She turned away.
He followed.
“One thousand dollars could change your life.”
She stopped.
“So could staying.”
The words escaped.
Both froze.
Everett looked at her.
Clara’s face heated.
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“It sounded fairly specific.”
“I meant seeing this through.”
“Why?”
She turned.
“Because somebody needs to stop treating me like every decision I make is secretly about money.”
Everett’s expression softened.
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
“I was asking because…”
He stopped.
“Because what?”
His eyes held hers.
“Because I don’t understand why someone would choose this.”
“This ranch?”
“This mess.”
“You chose it.”
“I was born here.”
“So?”
He stepped closer.
Clara could feel his presence.
“I don’t want gratitude from you,” she said quietly.
“I know.”
“I don’t want you confusing dependence with affection.”
His face changed.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Everett took one more step.
“Because my ribs healed two weeks ago.”
Clara stopped breathing.
“And I still look for you every time I enter a room.”
There was no joke in his voice.
No fever.
No grief confusing him.
Only truth.
Clara’s heart pounded.
Then bells rang from town.
Rapidly.
Alarm bells.
People ran into the street.
Smoke rose beyond the northern hills.
A ranch hand galloped toward them.
“Fire!”
Everett turned.
“Where?”
The rider’s answer made every other problem disappear.
“North range.”
Clara looked toward the smoke.
Within seconds, a second column rose.
Then a third.
This was no single accidental grass fire.
Three separate places were burning.
May you like
And the wind was carrying all of them directly toward Caldwell Ranch.
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