He wiped his hands on his trousers and walked toward the yard.
The carriage stopped.
A man stepped down.
Tall.
Silver-haired.
Black wool coat.
Gloves too fine for ranch work.
His gaze swept Red Willow with immediate disapproval.
Grant knew before introductions.
This was not someone who came to buy cattle.
The man looked at him.
“Grant Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“I am Augustus Harrow.”
Grant's stomach tightened.
Eliza's father.
The grain warehouses.
The locked pantry.
The removed chair.
Grant's hands curled.
He forced them open.
Augustus extended one gloved hand.
Grant looked at it.
Then shook once.
“Where is my daughter?”
Grant's voice went flat.
“Inside.”
“I'll see her.”
Grant stepped into the path.
Augustus's eyebrows rose.
“You'll wait.”
“This is a family matter.”
“She is my family.”
The words came automatically.
Augustus stared.
Then smiled faintly.
“You've known her three months.”
“Long enough.”
“Clearly.”
Grant heard the insult.
Before he answered, the front door opened.
Eliza stood on the porch.
Everything changed.
Her face drained of color.
Augustus looked past Grant.
“Eliza.”
She gripped the door frame.
Grant turned.
Every instinct told him to go to her.
He stayed still.
Her choice.
Finally Eliza walked down the steps.
Slowly.
She wore a brown wool dress and Grant's old coat because she had taken it that morning without asking.
The sight of his coat around her made something protective rise inside him.
Augustus noticed too.
His mouth tightened.
“You look…”
He stopped.
Eliza smiled bitterly.
“Say it.”
Augustus looked around.
“May we speak inside?”
Eliza considered.
Then nodded.
The three entered.
Samuel was sent to the barn despite furious curiosity.
Augustus removed his gloves.
He looked around the kitchen.
Three chairs.
Three plates from breakfast drying beside the sink.
Pantry door open.
His eyes paused.
Grant noticed.
So did Eliza.
She stood straighter.
Augustus turned.
“You left without permission.”
Eliza laughed once.
“I was twenty-seven.”
“Age is not the issue.”
“Then what was?”
“You disappeared.”
“I wrote you.”
“After.”
“Yes.”
“After marrying a stranger.”
Grant spoke.
“Eliza.”
She looked at him.
He stopped.
Not his argument.
Augustus saw the exchange.
“Interesting.”
Eliza's eyes sharpened.
“What do you want?”
“I want you home.”
“No.”
Augustus barely reacted.
“You don't understand the situation.”
“I understand enough.”
“You answered an advertisement.”
“Yes.”
“You married a cattleman you had never met.”
“We exchanged thirty-seven letters.”
“That is not courtship.”
“It was more conversation than you gave me in five years.”
Augustus's face tightened.