“Silas,” she whispered.
He turned.
“What?”
“I want to know why he lied.”
“So do I.”
Bell’s voice came again.
“Amos is alive, Clara. He wants you to come home.”
She stared at the door.
“Then why did you tell me he was dead?”
The clerk did not answer immediately.
When he finally spoke, his voice had changed.
“Because you were supposed to stay away.”
Clara’s fingers tightened around the belt.
“Why?”
“Because there are matters you don’t understand.”
Silas moved toward the rifle resting above the hearth.
He took it down but did not raise it.
“Mr. Bell,” he said, “you have one chance to explain yourself before I ride to the nearest settlement and bring the sheriff back here.”
Bell laughed uneasily.
“You’re a long way from the sheriff.”
“Not as far as you think.”
“You don’t know what you’re interfering with.”
Silas’s expression grew hard.
“Then tell me.”
The wind struck the cabin so violently that the window rattled in its frame.
For several seconds, Bell said nothing.
Then he spoke through the door.
“Amos Reed has a claim on Clara. They were to be married. She agreed to it.”
Clara rose again, slower this time.
“I agreed to marry him. I did not agree to be delivered to him like property.”
“Clara, you don’t know the circumstances.”
“I know you told me he was dead.”
“You were grieving. You were in no condition to understand—”
“Understand what?”
Silence.
Silas’s gaze remained fixed on the door.
“Answer her.”
Bell’s voice lowered.
“Amos is in trouble. He needs her to sign some papers.”
“What papers?” Clara demanded.
“Documents relating to the property.”
“What property?”
“The land he acquired near Bellwether.”
Clara felt a coldness that had nothing to do with the storm.
Amos had never mentioned owning land in Bellwether.
He had spoken of work in the western territories, of uncertain wages and a future that depended on luck. He had told her they would begin their married life in a modest house near the rail line.
He had never said he owned a claim.
“Why does he need my signature?” she asked.
Bell shifted outside.
“Because you’re named in the papers.”
“I’ve never seen them.”
“He’ll explain.”
“No. You will.”
The clerk’s voice became impatient.
“Clara, this is not the place for a discussion.”
Silas gave a humorless laugh.
“You’re right about that. The place for it is a courthouse, in daylight, with witnesses.”