The interrogation lasted hours.
The answer was worse than either expected.
Clara's uncle had indeed ordered intimidation.
But the attempted murder came through someone else.
The president of Western Continental Holdings.
A man Clara had never met.
Her uncle had secretly sold him options on trust property he did not legally own.
If Clara reclaimed control, the railroad speculation collapsed.
Her death fixed the problem.
Her marriage complicated it.
Henry's death fixed that.
The gunman had been told to make everything appear accidental.
A winter chimney blockage.
A barn fire.
A freezing death.
Tragic.
Believable.
No investigation.
Clara listened to the federal marshal explain it.
Henry stood beside her.
When the marshal finished, she asked one question.
“My uncle knew?”
The marshal hesitated.
“We don't know yet.”
That hurt more than certainty.
If her uncle had ordered the murder, she could hate him.
If he had merely created circumstances in which other men decided her death was profitable—
was that better?
She did not know.
Henry saw the question on her face.
That night in the hotel room, she sat beside the window long after dark.
Henry remained by the stove.
Eventually he said, “Come home.”
Clara looked over.
“What?”
“When this is finished.”
She smiled faintly.
“To Montana?”
“To our cabin.”
“Your cabin.”
Henry shook his head.
“Ours.”
Clara looked at him.
He crossed the room.
“There are legal matters.”
“I know.”
“Money.”
“I know.”
“Your uncle.”
“I know.”
She searched his face.
“And after?”
Henry stopped in front of her.
“After, we go home.”
“You make that sound simple.”
“It should be.”
“Nothing about us is simple.”
“No.”
He crouched.
The position brought them eye to eye.
Henry looked nervous.
Clara had seen him face a gunman with less fear.
“Henry?”
He swallowed.
“I married you because I thought a wife was useful.”
Clara raised an eyebrow.
“That beginning requires improvement.”
“Let me finish.”
She waited.
“I thought marriage was division of labor.”
“Also terrible.”
“Clara.”
She smiled.
“Continue.”
“I thought affection made people foolish.”
His expression became serious.
“I was wrong.”
Her smile faded.
Henry looked down at his hands.
“When you collapsed in the snow, I couldn't breathe.”
Clara's eyes filled.
“I thought you'd died.”
“Henry…”
“I kept telling myself I was afraid because I needed you. Because the ranch needed you. Because we had an arrangement.”
He shook his head.
“That was a lie.”
Clara did not move.
Henry looked directly at her.
“I was afraid because I love you.”
The room became perfectly still.
Clara's lips parted.
Henry continued before courage disappeared.
“I don't know when.”
She started crying.
Henry panicked.
“Is that bad?”
She laughed through tears.
“You ridiculous man.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”