For a moment, the office became silent.
Then the banker slid a paper toward her.
The amount was far larger than she expected.
She examined it carefully.
Several charges appeared without clear explanations.
There were administrative fees.
Late penalties.
Processing charges.
And an additional amount described as a property-management adjustment.
She frowned.
“What's this?”
The banker glanced at the page.
“Standard charges.”
“They weren't listed in the original note.”
His expression hardened.
“Banking is more complicated than curing pork.”
She slowly folded the statement.
“Then I expect a banker to explain it.”
He stood.
“I'm not going to spend the afternoon debating figures with you.”
She looked up.
“Then I'll return when you have time.”
His jaw tightened.
“Don't mistake my patience for an obligation to continue this arrangement.”
She studied him.
Then gathered her papers.
“I never have.”
She left with her head held high.
But when she returned to the ranch, she sat beside the kitchen table and cried.
Not because the banker had insulted her.
She had survived insults before.
She cried because she feared losing the last thing her father had left her.
And because for the first time, she wasn't certain that hard work and careful planning would be enough.
That was the morning the mountain rancher first appeared at her smokehouse door.
He had heard that she preserved meat better than anyone in the valley.
He needed several cuts prepared for winter storage.
And he had no idea that the woman behind the broad wooden doorway would eventually become the person he loved more than anyone in the world.
He arrived shortly after noon, leading a dark chestnut horse through the snow-dusted clearing.
She heard the animal before she saw him.
The hoofbeats were steady and unhurried, followed by the creak of a leather saddle and the faint jingle of metal fittings. When she looked through the window, a tall man was dismounting beside the smokehouse, carrying a carefully wrapped piece of venison.
He wore a dark wool coat over a fur-lined leather vest, heavy trousers, and tall boots marked with mud from the mountain trail.
His long hair was tied loosely behind his neck.
A thick beard covered his jaw.
Even from the window, she could see that he was remarkably handsome.
She immediately looked away from the glass.
Men who looked like that seldom came to her property without wanting something.