Rosa did not move.
“You know, eight hundred dollars was generous.”
“For what?”
“The property.”
“Then you should have no difficulty finding another seven acres for less.”
“This location suits me.”
“Why?”
Silas smiled.
“Sentimental reasons.”
Rosa almost laughed.
Silas Mercer had probably been born without sentiment.
“No.”
He sighed.
“Rosa.”
“No.”
“You have two babies.”
“Yes.”
“No husband.”
Her face changed.
Silas continued.
“A house needing repairs.”
“Roof is repaired.”
“One roof does not make a ranch.”
“Neither does your opinion.”
His nephew shifted, amused again.
Silas glanced toward him.
The young man immediately became serious.
Then Silas leaned closer.
“You think stubbornness will feed those children?”
Rosa felt heat rise behind her eyes.
She refused to give him tears.
“No.”
“Then be reasonable.”
“I am.”
“You wash clothes for pennies.”
“I work.”
“You sell eggs.”
“I work.”
“You owe the general store.”
“I owe twelve dollars.”
“You owe more than that.”
“Show me.”
Silence again.
Silas stopped smiling.
“Someone has been talking to you.”
Rosa thought of Gabriel.
Then Julián.
“My husband.”
Silas’s face changed.
Barely.
Enough.
Rosa knew.
Julián had frightened him.
Whatever happened before his death, Silas had known Julián was digging.
Silas recovered.
“Your husband is dead.”
The sentence cut.
Rosa did not move.
“Yes.”
Silas lowered his voice.
“So think about the living.”
Rosa stared into his eyes.
“I am.”
Lucía cried inside the house.
Silas looked toward the sound.
Then back.
“Eight hundred fifty.”
“No.”
“Nine hundred.”
“No.”
“One thousand.”
His nephew looked surprised.
Rosa’s heartbeat increased.
Julián had written four times what the property was worth.
Now Silas had increased the offer within seconds.
“Why?”
Silas stopped.
“Why what?”
“Why is seven acres suddenly worth a thousand dollars?”
“It isn’t.”
“Then you’re stupid.”
His expression hardened.
Rosa almost smiled.