Chapter 17 - Clara’s Choice
By March, Gideon Rusk’s empire had collapsed.
Federal charges multiplied.
Sheriff Pike accepted a plea and agreed to testify.
Reverend Mercer left Red Hollow quietly.
Several stolen farms were returned.
The mill reopened under temporary community management.
And Clara received an unexpected offer.
Thomas’s forty-acre parcel sat directly in the planned railway route.
A company from Denver offered enough money to make Clara wealthy.
She stared at the number.
Samuel whistled.
Elias said nothing.
“What?”
Clara asked.
“Your land.”
“You have an opinion.”
“I have many.”
“Miracle.”
“But this choice is yours.”
That irritated her.
“Why won’t you tell me what you think?”
“Because everyone in your life has spent months deciding what you should do.”
She stopped.
Elias continued.
“Gideon decided you should disappear.”
“Thomas decided you should be protected without telling you everything.”
“Even I keep deciding when you’re allowed on dangerous roads.”
Clara raised an eyebrow.
“That one needs work.”
“I know.”
He touched her hand.
“So this decision is yours.”
Clara looked at the contract.
She could leave.
Buy a house in Denver.
Hire help.
Give Rose and Ruth every comfort.
No more mountain storms.
No more danger.
No more struggling.
That night she packed a small bag.
Elias saw it.
His face became unreadable.
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
He nodded.
No argument.
That hurt more.
“Aren’t you going to stop me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I meant what I said.”
Clara stared.
“You infuriating man.”
“I’ve heard.”
She stepped close.
“I’m going to Denver.”
“I gathered.”
“For three days.”
Elias blinked.
“What?”
“To meet the railway company.”
“You’re coming back?”
Clara started laughing.
“Did you think I was leaving you?”
“You packed.”
“It’s a bag.”
“I know what bags mean.”
“Apparently not.”
Elias looked almost offended.
Clara wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I’m coming back.”
His hands found her waist.
“Good.”
“Very romantic.”
“I’ve had limited practice.”
In Denver Clara shocked the railway executives.
She refused the full purchase.
Instead she negotiated a lease.
Annual income.
Ownership retained for Rose and Ruth.
Then she used part of the first payment to establish a legal fund in Red Hollow for widows, workers and families threatened by unfair debt.
When she returned, Martha Doyle cried.
Samuel called it brilliant.
Elias simply looked proud.
That evening they climbed the hill behind what remained of his burned cabin.
Snow was melting.
Timbers had been delivered.
Workers from Red Hollow had volunteered to rebuild.
Clara looked at the foundation.
“It’s bigger.”
“Yes.”
“How much bigger?”
Elias pointed.
“Kitchen.”
“Good.”
“Two bedrooms.”
“Two?”
He looked embarrassed.
“Three.”
Clara smiled.
“Why three?”
“One for us.”
Her heart skipped.
“One for Rose and Ruth.”
“And the third?”
Elias looked toward the horizon.
“Future.”
Clara stared.
He immediately added, “Or storage.”
She laughed.
“Coward.”
“I’ve survived this long.”
Elias reached into his coat.
Clara stopped laughing.
“What are you doing?”
“Making a mistake, probably.”
He held out a small ring.
Not expensive.
Silver.
Hand-forged.
Clara covered her mouth.
“I was going to wait until the house was finished.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Samuel told me waiting has become a personality defect.”
Clara laughed through tears.
Elias took her hand.
“I can’t promise easy.”
“I don’t want easy.”
“I can’t promise I’ll ever like towns.”
“Reasonable.”
“I can promise your daughters will never wonder whether they were wanted.”
Clara’s eyes filled.
“And I can promise I will spend every day trying to deserve the fact that you trusted me when you had every reason not to trust anyone.”
She whispered, “Elias…”
“Will you marry me?”
Clara looked toward the valley.
Toward Red Hollow.
Toward the mountains where she had nearly died.
Then toward the man who found her beneath the snow and never once asked what she could give him in return.
“Yes.”
Elias exhaled.
Clara laughed.
“Were you worried?”
“Terrified.”
“Good.”
He slid the ring onto her finger.
Then she kissed him.
Below them, Rose began crying from Samuel’s arms.
Ruth followed.
Samuel shouted up:
“I believe your daughters object!”
Clara laughed.
“Our daughters.”
Elias looked at her.
The correction settled into him.
Our.
He smiled.
May you like
“Our daughters.”
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