Sarah's fingers slowly released the skirt she had been gripping.
“You needed a wife.”
“Yes.”
“For the loan.”
“Yes.”
Sarah could hear the storm outside.
“You placed the advertisement because the bank required marriage.”
“Partly.”
She laughed.
It hurt.
“Partly.”
“Sarah.”
“Was I chosen because I asked the best questions or because I answered before December?”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“There is no answer I can give that makes what I did fair.”
“That was not what I asked.”
He looked at her.
“When I first wrote you?”
His voice became rough.
“Yes.”
“The deadline mattered.”
Sarah looked away.
Every intimate memory changed color.
The heated room.
The flowers.
The questions.
His respect.
His growing trust.
Was she wife?
Accountant?
Collateral?
Household evidence?
She whispered:
“You should have told me.”
“Yes.”
“Before I signed.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I had forty-seven cents.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I had almost no choice.”
Thomas flinched.
Sarah continued.
“And still you let me sign without knowing why you needed a wife.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Thomas did not defend himself.
That somehow made anger easier.
“Why tell me now?”
“Because I almost kissed you.”
Sarah stared.
He continued.
“Because I wanted to.”
“Not because of the contract.”
“Not because of the bank.”
“Because I wanted you.”
His voice tightened.
“And I realized if I touched you while keeping this from you, I would be using ignorance you didn't deserve.”
Sarah swallowed.
Thomas stepped backward.
“I won't do that.”
She hated that part of her understood.
Hated that it mattered.
“Anything else?”
He told her.
Bank assessor.
December fifteenth.
Boundary challenge.
Risk to clear title.
All of it.
When he finished Sarah stood by the window.
She thought of Edmund.
Her father.
Mortgage hidden behind reassuring smiles.
Men believing concealment became kindness if motivated by fear.
“My father did the same thing.”
Thomas frowned.
“He lied because he didn't want me frightened.”
“He thought information was another burden.”
“He decided for me.”
Sarah looked at Thomas.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“If you ever do that again, this marriage ends.”
Thomas went still.
“Not the contract.”
“I mean whatever this has become.”
Pain appeared in his face.
“I understand.”
Sarah sat.
Anger remained.
So did love.
That was the horrible part.
She was still angry when she pulled the spring ledger toward herself.
Thomas stared.
“What are you doing?”
“Saving the ranch.”
“You don't have to.”
“Don't.”
He stopped.
Sarah looked up.
“Do not reduce my choice because you're ashamed of yours.”
Thomas said nothing.
“This ranch matters to me now.”
“Margaret matters.”
“Cody.”
“The men.”
“The accounts.”
“The cattle.”
“You.”
She nearly stopped before the last word.
Did not.
“You matter.”
Thomas looked at her.