Then the second.
His face became hard.
Eleanor watched him carefully.
“What happened?”
Silas folded the telegram.
“Nothing.”
“You're lying.”
He looked at her.
“You have known me for less than ten minutes.”
“And already I've caught you twice.”
Sheriff Harlan looked between them.
“I'll give you two some room.”
“No,” Eleanor said.
Silas looked at her.
“No?”
She stepped closer.
“If that message concerns the ranch, I have a right to know.”
“You have no right yet.”
“I may not be your wife yet.”
Silas froze.
“But I am here because of you.”
The sheriff cleared his throat.
Silas looked at the telegram.
Then at Eleanor.
“Someone has been buying cattle under my brand.”
Eleanor's eyes sharpened.
“How many?”
“Too early to know.”
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
“Then why did you say nothing?”
Silas stared at her.
“You've been here twenty minutes.”
“And you've spent twenty of them telling me why I don't belong.”
He had no answer.
Eleanor turned away.
“Where is the ranch?”
“West.”
“How far?”
“Forty miles.”
“When do we leave?”
Silas blinked.
“Tomorrow morning.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Tonight.”
“It will be dark.”
“I've traveled three days in a coach.”
“That doesn't mean you can ride forty miles in darkness.”
“I didn't say I would ride.”
He stared at her.
“You're going to make me drive?”
“No.”
She smiled.
“I want to see where I am supposedly going to live.”
Silas looked toward the mountains.
Then back at her.
“You are impossible.”
“So you've said.”
He shook his head.
“Fine.”
Eleanor smiled.
“Good.”
The crowd began dispersing, disappointed that the spectacle appeared to be ending.
But Silas remained where he was.
Eleanor stepped closer once more.
She reached into her coat.
This time she pulled out the letter.
She placed it against his chest.
His hand came up instinctively, covering hers.
The contact lasted only a second.
But both of them felt it.
“Read it again,” she whispered.
“I know what it says.”
“No.”
Her hazel eyes held his.
“You know what you wrote.”
She withdrew the letter.
“You don't know why I came.”
Then she walked away.
Silas watched her go.
For the first time in seven years, the quiet man of Creed Ranch felt something dangerously close to fear.
Not fear of losing something.
Fear of wanting something.
And that was much worse.
The ranch lay beneath the shadow of the Bighorn Mountains.
By sunset, Eleanor understood why Silas had warned her about loneliness.
The road narrowed as they climbed.
The grasslands rolled outward in every direction, golden beneath the lowering sun.
Cottonwoods gathered around a creek.
Farther west, the mountains rose blue and jagged against the sky.
There were no neighbors in sight.
No church bells.
No storefronts.
No children.
No voices.