One evening, he returned from the northern pasture after sunset.
His face was pale.
His left fingers were swollen.
And he could barely remove his gloves.
Clara met him near the kitchen table.
“Nathaniel.”
He looked toward her.
“I'm fine.”
She raised one eyebrow.
“That's an interesting description of a hand you can barely move.”
He sighed.
“Long day.”
She approached.
“Sit.”
He almost laughed.
“You sound like Frey.”
“Then perhaps he and I are both sensible.”
Nathaniel sat.
Clara carefully helped him remove the glove after asking permission.
The hand was swollen.
The old injury had clearly been aggravated.
She arranged warm water and the simple care he'd previously been advised to use, then told him the work needed to be adjusted until he could obtain further medical attention if required.
He frowned.
“I can't stop.”
She looked directly at him.
“Then delegate.”
He sighed.
“Mateo's already doing too much.”
“Then hire temporary help for the work that truly requires it.”
“With what money?”
Clara became quiet.
She understood the problem.
The ranch was under pressure.
Every extra expense mattered.
But there was something else Nathaniel hadn't considered.
She'd brought savings from Missouri.
Money earned through years of bookkeeping and work in her father's shop.
She hadn't planned to spend it recklessly.
But she had come west to build a life.
And she now cared deeply about the place.
She looked toward Nathaniel.
“I can contribute.”
He immediately shook his head.
“No.”
Clara frowned.
“You haven't heard what I'm offering.”
“I won't take your savings to repair my failures.”
Her expression changed.
“Nathaniel.”
He looked away.
She took a breath.
“If we're building a partnership, then we discuss resources as partners.”
His jaw tightened.
“It's not your responsibility.”
She leaned closer.
“And whose responsibility would it become if we married?”
For several seconds, he remained silent.
Then he looked at her.
Clara continued.
“I'm not offering to pay for your pride. I'm offering to invest in work we believe has a reasonable chance of improving the ranch.”
He studied her.
“And if Hawthorne wins?”
She took a breath.
“Then we will have to make difficult decisions.”
He looked down.
For a moment, his expression became painfully tired.
“I don't want you losing what you've worked for.”
Clara's eyes softened.
“And I don't want you destroying your hand because you're ashamed to accept help.”