Chapter 17 - Her Name on the Deed
Gideon took Clara to the county recorder two days later.
She thought they were filing repairs.
Instead he placed a deed on the desk.
She read it.
Then read it again.
GRANTORS: GIDEON ELIAS COBB.
GRANTEE: CLARA WYNN.
One-half interest.
Forty-three acres.
Cabin.
Water rights.
North Star mineral claim.
Everything.
Clara looked up.
“What is this?”
“Property deed.”
“I can read.”
“Good.”
“You’re giving me half?”
“No.”
She frowned.
“Recording half as yours.”
“That is giving.”
“Not if we’re building together.”
“We aren’t married yet.”
“I know.”
“What if I change my mind?”
“You own half.”
“What if we fight?”
“You own half.”
“What if I leave?”
Gideon’s jaw tightened.
“You own half.”
Clara stared at him.
“Why?”
His answer was simple.
“Because I said home had to become yours too.”
She remembered the unsent letter.
Her eyes filled.
The county clerk pretended not to listen.
Poorly.
Clara whispered, “Gideon, this land is worth—”
“I know.”
“Rail company may pay thousands.”
“I know.”
“You’re insane.”
“Been considered.”
She put down the deed.
“I won’t take it.”
Gideon’s expression changed.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want you proving anything with money.”
“I’m not.”
“It feels like—”
“Clara.”
He moved closer.
Not touching.
“This isn’t payment.”
She looked at him.
“It isn’t protection.”
He continued.
“It isn’t because we’re getting married.”
“Then why?”
“Because you’re already building a future here.”
She looked through the window.
Toward the mountain.
Toward the place where the barn had stood.
“I don’t want you doing that on land someone can tell you to leave.”
Her throat tightened.
Gideon added, “Not even me.”
That was the sentence.
Clara picked up the pen.
Signed.
CLARA WYNN.
Her own name.
Not attached to debt.
Not attached to marriage.
Not attached to her father’s forgery.
Ownership.
The clerk stamped the deed.
The sound was small.
But Clara felt something enormous settle into place.
Outside, she stood on the boardwalk.
Gideon waited.
“Regret?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I might make you regret it.”
“Expected.”
She took his arm.
They walked to the mercantile.
Inside, Anna had drawn plans for the boardinghouse.
Six rooms.
Kitchen.
Office.
Laundry.
A small classroom.
“What’s this?” Gideon asked.
“Reading room.”
Clara looked at Anna.
“For women who can’t read contracts.”
Gideon nodded slowly.
“Good.”
Harlan approached.
“What are you calling it?”
Clara had not thought.
Ruth said, “Not Cobb House.”
Gideon looked offended.
“Why not?”
“Sounds like a jail.”
Anna laughed.
Clara looked down at her boots.
An idea came.
“The Open Door.”
Everyone quieted.
Clara smiled.
“Because nobody locks women in.”
Ruth nodded.
“The Open Door.”
It stayed.
News spread.
Donations arrived.
Lumber.
Beds.
Fabric.
A lawyer in Cheyenne volunteered one day each month.
A railway clerk offered reduced fares.
Marshal Talbot promised federal notices would go to women listed in the ledger.
The project became larger than Clara imagined.
So did her wedding.
She wanted six people.
Bitter Creek wanted sixty.
She wanted a plain dress.
Ruth and Mae secretly created one from ivory wool and lace.
Gideon wanted no celebration.
Harlan ordered whiskey.
Anna ordered flowers from Laramie.
Sheriff Bell announced he would give Clara away.
Clara refused.
“I’m not property to be given.”
Bell turned red.
Then laughed.
“Fair.”
Instead, he offered to walk beside her.
She accepted.
The night before the wedding, Clara sat upstairs in the room Gideon had first given her.
The lock remained on the door.
She touched it.
Then opened the door.
Gideon stood across the hall.
He had been about to knock.
“Can’t sleep?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
She leaned against the frame.
“You nervous?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“No.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Liar.”
“Terrified.”
“Better.”
He smiled.
Clara looked into her room.
“Do you remember the first night?”
“Yes.”
“I locked the door.”
“I heard.”
“Were you offended?”
“No.”
“Not even a little?”
Gideon thought.
“I was glad.”
“Why?”
“Because you believed me enough to use the key.”
Clara’s eyes softened.
She walked toward him.
“I don’t need the lock anymore.”
“You can keep it.”
“I know.”
That was why she no longer needed it.
She kissed him.
This time slowly.
When they separated, Gideon rested his forehead against hers.
“I love you.”
The words finally came.
Clara closed her eyes.
“Slow man.”
He laughed quietly.
“I love you too.”
They stood in the hallway.
No witnesses.
No contract.
No obligation.
Just two people who had been strangers at a stagecoach stop.
The wedding waited downstairs in tomorrow.
But before dawn, someone arrived at the cabin.
A woman.
Alone.
Travel-worn.
Carrying a letter from Clara.
Her name was Rose Hatcher.
One of the missing women in Rusk’s ledger.
She stood on the porch shaking.
And the first words she said were:
“Is this the place where women are allowed to leave?”
Clara looked at Gideon.
Then opened the door wider.
“Yes.”
May you like
The Open Door had received its first guest before its walls were even built.
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