She continued.
“Love doesn't become false because someone dies.”
Silas said nothing.
“But you can't build a life beside a grave forever.”
His eyes lifted.
“Is that what you think I've done?”
“Yes.”
The honesty startled him.
She turned toward the house.
“You haven't moved on.”
“I tried.”
“No.”
He followed her gaze.
“You've built walls.”
He looked at the grave.
“Maybe.”
She stepped closer.
“But walls aren't the same as healing.”
Silas stared at her.
“You're very bold.”
“I've been told.”
He almost smiled.
Then she said, “Now tell me why you really sent for a wife.”
His smile vanished.
“I was tired of being alone.”
“That is part of it.”
“Yes.”
“What is the other part?”
Silas looked away.
“My ranch needs someone.”
“That is not true.”
He frowned.
“How would you know?”
“Because your ranch has six men, three horses for every man, and enough supplies to last a winter.”
He stared.
She had been counting.
“You investigated me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you were asking me to marry you.”
“I didn't ask.”
“You advertised.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
She looked directly into his eyes.
“You were looking for someone who would obey.”
His jaw tightened.
“I was looking for someone who would stay.”
The words came out more quietly than he intended.
Eleanor's expression softened.
“That is different.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you write that?”
“Because I didn't know how.”
She nodded.
“That I believe.”
They stood beneath the trees.
Then Eleanor reached into her coat.
She pulled out the letter.
“I need to show you something.”
Silas stared at it.
“What?”
“Read the last page.”
“I remember the last page.”
“No.”
She unfolded it.
The paper had been opened and refolded so many times that the creases had softened.
Silas recognized his own handwriting.
At the bottom was a sentence he had written in the early hours of a sleepless night.
He read it aloud.
“If there is a woman willing to come here, I promise I will never ask her to pretend she is someone she isn't.”
He stopped.
Eleanor looked at him.
“You wrote that.”
“Yes.”
“I believed you.”
His throat tightened.
“That doesn't explain why you came.”
“No.”
She folded the letter.
“It doesn't.”
She looked toward the mountains.
“My father left behind a debt.”
Silas waited.
“Not money.”
“What then?”
“A debt to a man named Gideon Shaw.”
Silas went still.
“Gideon Shaw?”
“Yes.”
“You know him?”
“I know of him.”
Silas's face darkened.
“He's been buying cattle under my brand.”
Eleanor nodded.