Ruth was crying.
“She went to Rourke.”
Ethan’s stomach dropped.
“What?”
“She said it was the only way.”
“No.”
“She left an hour ago.”
Ethan turned toward his horse.
Ruth grabbed his arm.
“Don’t.”
“He is forcing her.”
“She knows.”
“She loves me.”
“I know.”
Ethan stared at her.
Ruth’s face crumpled.
“She has loved you longer than you know.”
“Then why would she—”
“Because she loves Daniel too.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
Of course.
Clara would sacrifice herself if she believed it would save her father.
That was who she was.
The woman carrying soup to Mr. Briggs.
The woman working before sunrise.
The woman who gave without asking anyone to notice.
Ethan mounted.
Ruth called after him.
“What will you do?”
He looked south toward the enormous Rourke property.
“I don’t know yet.”
For once, he truly did not.
Gideon received Clara in the parlor of his ranch house.
The room was larger than the entire lower floor of her parents’ home.
Heavy curtains covered the windows.
Silas Rourke’s portrait hung above the fireplace.
Gideon poured whiskey.
Clara remained standing.
“I’m here.”
“So I see.”
“You release my father.”
“After tomorrow.”
“You said—”
“I said I could.”
Her hands curled.
“What do you want signed?”
Gideon opened a leather folder.
“Marriage contract. Water transfer. Debt settlement.”
Clara looked at the papers.
“You planned all of this.”
“I plan everything.”
“You knew my father would refuse the water rights.”
“Yes.”
“So you used me.”
Gideon took a drink.
“Your father is sentimental.”
“And you aren’t?”
“Sentiment is expensive.”
Clara stared at Silas Rourke’s portrait.
“Your father taught you that?”
“He taught me survival.”
“He taught you theft.”
The glass stopped halfway to Gideon’s mouth.
Clara saw it.
Tiny.
But enough.
“You know.”
Gideon set the glass down.
“Know what?”
“About the survey markers.”
His expression became unreadable.
Clara’s heart hammered.
“Ethan found records.”
This was a lie.
Ethan had the records, yes.
But Clara had no idea where he had hidden them.
She continued anyway.
“Original patents.”
Gideon walked toward her.
“How unfortunate.”
“For you.”
“For Ethan.”
Clara’s confidence vanished.
Gideon smiled.
“He should be more careful when riding alone.”
“If you touch him—”
“What?”
His voice remained quiet.
“You’ll refuse to marry me?”
Clara hated him.
Gideon leaned closer.
“Tomorrow morning, you will come to church. You will smile. You will sign every paper I place in front of you.”
“And my father?”
“Will live.”
“You swear?”
“No.”
Clara’s eyes narrowed.
Gideon smiled.
“I don’t believe in promises.”
Ethan returned to Briggs’s cabin after dark.
The door stood open.
Inside, the old man was gone.
A chair had been overturned.
Blood stained the floor.
“Briggs!”
No answer.
Ethan searched the cabin.
On the table sat one object.
Thomas Callaway’s old tobacco tin.