“Yes.”
“If approved, perhaps two weeks.”
Tomás’s face fell.
The bank payment was due before that.
Clara saw.
“How many days?”
“Eleven.”
They had nine days to secure the railway deal.
Eleven before foreclosure default.
Almost no margin.
Then Clara asked, “Could the board issue a letter of commitment?”
The engineer looked at her.
“Yes.”
“Would a bank accept it as collateral?”
“Possibly.”
Tomás turned.
Clara continued.
“If we show Harlan the letter, he cannot honestly claim the ranch lacks value.”
Tomás laughed bitterly.
“Harlan’s honesty may not matter.”
“No.”
Clara’s eyes hardened.
“But his fear might.”
They returned home with certified copies of every forged document.
They told nobody.
Not Gideon.
Not the sheriff.
Not even the minister.
If Harlan and Silas believed Tomás remained ignorant, they might make another move.
Clara wanted them comfortable.
Tomás wanted them arrested.
Marriage required compromise.
They agreed to wait forty-eight hours.
That evening, Tomás found Clara sitting outside beneath the cottonwood.
She held the railway documents.
He sat beside her.
“You were right.”
She looked suspicious.
“About?”
“Not selling.”
“I never told you not to sell.”
“You acted like it.”
“I told you to know what you owned.”
Tomás smiled.
“Same thing.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“You like precision.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
Then became quiet.
“If you hadn’t come…”
Clara turned.
He continued.
“I would have sold.”
Her expression softened.
“Probably tomorrow.”
“To Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Four thousand.”
Clara looked toward the hills.
“And he would have made more than that from the first railway payment.”
“Yes.”
Tomás swallowed.
“I thought I had failed.”
“You were deceived.”
“Same result.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
Clara shook her head.
“Failure belongs to decisions you make with truth available.”
Tomás stared.
“You cannot call yourself a failure because someone hid the board and changed the cards.”
“Stockyard philosophy?”
“Chicago teaches everything painfully.”
He laughed softly.
Then looked at her.
“Why are you so good at this?”
“At what?”
“Seeing what people want.”
Clara’s expression changed.
Tomás regretted asking.
But she answered.
“Because men rarely hid what they wanted from women like me.”
He frowned.
“What does that mean?”
She looked down at her body.
Large.
Powerful.
Impossible to ignore.
“Beautiful women were lied to politely.”
Tomás listened.
“I wasn’t.”
His jaw tightened.
“Men assumed I should be grateful for attention.”
She looked toward the ranch.
“So they spoke carelessly.”
Tomás wanted to say she was beautiful.
But this was not the moment to cover her history with a compliment.
Clara continued.
“I learned men tell the truth when they believe the person listening has no power.”
Tomás’s throat tightened.
“And now?”
She looked at him.
“Now some of them are going to discover I was listening.”
He smiled.
There she was.
The woman who stepped off the train carrying a trunk he could barely lift.
He loved that smile.
The realization arrived with such force that Tomás stopped breathing.