Chapter 18 - The Ranch Between Two Homes
Spring came late to Wyoming.
Graham returned to Marrow Creek with Leah beside him and Silas complaining from the third horse that neither of them understood efficient travel.
The ranch appeared over a ridge just before sunset.
Leah stopped.
“Oh.”
Graham looked at her.
“What?”
“You didn’t tell me it was beautiful.”
“You saw it when you came.”
“I was exhausted and carrying news that your mother was dead.”
“Fair.”
Below them, Marrow Creek spread across green land beginning to wake from winter.
Cattle moved beyond the creek.
The mountains held snow.
Smoke rose from the bunkhouse chimney.
Men saw them.
Someone shouted.
Within minutes half the ranch yard gathered.
Graham’s foreman, Hank Mercer, shook his hand.
“Thought Colorado stole you.”
“Almost.”
Hank looked at Leah.
“Ma’am.”
“Leah Bennett.”
“Heard plenty.”
She glanced at Graham.
“Should I worry?”
“Yes.”
Silas interrupted.
“He means no.”
That night the ranch prepared a supper large enough to feed twice the population.
Stories began.
Most were about Graham.
Leah enjoyed them too much.
“So he really fell into the creek trying to rope a calf?”
Hank nodded.
“February.”
“It was shallow,” Graham said.
“Frozen,” Silas added.
“I hate everybody here.”
Leah smiled.
“I like Wyoming.”
That terrified him slightly.
Days became weeks.
Leah began helping with accounts.
Then completely reorganized them.
Graham entered the office one afternoon and found boxes labeled.
“What happened?”
“Civilization.”
“I knew where everything was.”
“No, you knew which pile to panic through.”
“System worked.”
“It was not a system.”
Silas appeared.
“She’s right.”
“Get out.”
By early summer, Graham made the decision.
Marrow Creek would remain his primary ranch.
The Alder property in Colorado would become a breeding and shipping operation managed by Hank’s brother.
The railroad leases would fund both.
Silas would move between the two whenever he pleased.
Graham expected him to choose Wyoming.
Silas surprised him.
“I’m spending summers in Colorado.”
“Why?”
“North fence.”
“You hate that fence.”
“Exactly.”
Graham understood.
Silas wanted to be near Thomas and Matilda’s graves too.
He never said it.
He did not need to.
Then came Leah.
One evening they sat beside the creek.
She had been quiet all day.
“What?”
Graham asked.
“Nothing.”
“You’re terrible at nothing.”
She looked toward the water.
“I received a letter.”
“From?”
“A publishing company in Denver.”
Graham frowned.
“What do they want?”
“I sent them something months ago.”
“You write?”
“Sometimes.”
“What?”
“Essays.”
“About?”
“Women working in frontier businesses.”
Graham smiled.
“They want you?”
“They offered editorial work.”
“How long?”
“Permanent.”
He went still.
Denver.
She looked at him.
“Say something.”
“Congratulations.”
“That sounded painful.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Graham.”
He forced himself to breathe.
This was the moment.
The one he had promised himself he would handle differently.
He would not become Matilda.
Would not make love conditional.
Would not turn a choice into betrayal.
“What do you want?”
Leah watched him carefully.
“I don’t know.”
“Then find out.”
“What if I want Denver?”
“I’ll hate Denver.”
She smiled.
“You’ve been there twice.”
“Enough.”
“And us?”
Graham looked at her.
“There is still an us if you want one.”
“From Wyoming?”
“Trains exist.”
“That sounds difficult.”
“It would be.”
“And if I stayed?”
“I’d be happy.”
“But?”
“But if you stay only because you think loving me requires it, eventually you’ll hate me.”
Leah’s eyes filled.
“Where did you learn that?”
“My mother.”
He smiled sadly.
“Took her six years.”
Leah leaned her head against his shoulder.
The creek moved around stones.
“I don’t want Denver.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
He laughed.
She continued.
“I want the work.”
“That’s different.”
“Yes.”
“So take the work.”
“How?”
“Do it from here.”
Leah turned.
“In Wyoming?”
“Why not?”
“Editors like offices.”
“Build one.”
“Graham.”
“Railroad comes through twice a week. Mail too.”
“That isn’t impossible.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“Would you really be all right with that?”
“I have no idea what editors do.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“Yes.”
He took her hand.
“I want you here. I just don’t want you trapped here.”
Leah stared at him.
Then kissed him hard enough to nearly knock his hat off.
“That a yes?”
“That is a very strong maybe.”
“I’ll accept it.”
By August, a room in the ranch house became Leah’s office.
Manuscripts arrived.
Letters left.
She traveled to Denver every few months.
Graham discovered he hated those trips.
He also discovered her return was worth every day.
Then, near the end of summer, he received a telegram from Colorado.
GIDEON PIKE SENTENCED ON FRAUD CONVICTIONS. MULTIPLE CIVIL CLAIMS PENDING.
Graham read it once.
Then handed it to Silas.
Silas read it.
“Feel anything?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
They burned the telegram in the stove.
Not because Pike did not matter.
Because he no longer deserved space.
That evening, Graham found the silver spurs hanging in the tack room.
He had finally used them once.
They fit perfectly.
Leah entered behind him.
“You never wear those.”
“Too fancy.”
“Your mother would be offended.”
“She knew.”
Leah touched the silver.
“Why keep them here?”
Graham thought.
“Because they stopped meaning the morning I left.”
“What do they mean now?”
He smiled.
“Coming back.”
Leah looked at him.
“You know, for a man who claims not to write, occasionally you say something decent.”
“Don’t tell anybody.”
She promised.
Then, before leaving, Graham reached into his pocket and touched a small velvet box.
He had carried it for three weeks.
Silas had become unbearable.
Hank had become worse.
Even Edith Harlow had somehow written from Colorado asking when Graham planned to “stop behaving like a nervous schoolboy.”
Graham had no idea who told her.
Probably Silas.
Tomorrow morning, he decided.
At sunrise.
Beside the creek.
He would ask Leah Bennett whether she wanted to choose him.
Not because his mother had sent her.
Not because they had survived Pike.
Not because grief had brought them together.
May you like
Because after all the secrets, distance and years lost to other people’s choices, Graham wanted one decision made freely.
And he wanted it to be theirs.
