Anna smiled faintly.
“I didn't change my mind all at once. I began thinking about what it would be like to have someone who knew me before I learned how to hide my feelings. Someone who would see me when I was tired, or angry, or frightened, and still know I was worth loving.”
Samuel touched the edge of the fabric.
“You will be a good mother.”
Anna's smile trembled.
“How can you know?”
“Because you already worry about doing it well.”
She laughed softly.
For a moment, the room felt warm enough to belong to a different season.
Then a rider appeared on the road.
Samuel saw him from the window.
Thomas.
He was alone this time, without a wagon or a companion. He rode slowly toward the house, as though uncertain whether he would be welcomed.
Samuel went outside.
Anna followed him to the porch but remained near the door.
Thomas dismounted.
“I need to speak with you.”
Samuel folded his arms.
“You had your chance.”
“I know.”
“Then what changed?”
Thomas looked toward the house.
“Is Anna well?”
“She is.”
“And the child?”
Samuel's face hardened.
“You don't get to ask about my child as though you have some claim to it.”
Thomas flinched.
“I wasn't trying to—”
“Then say what you came to say.”
Thomas took off his hat.
For the first time, Samuel noticed how much his brother had aged in the past few days. His eyes were shadowed, and his face looked drawn.
“I have been thinking about what you said,” Thomas began. “About the years I spent keeping the truth from you.”
Samuel said nothing.
“I can't undo it. I know that. But there are things I need to explain.”
“Then explain.”
Thomas looked down at his hat.
“Edward came to me after your accident. He knew about my debts. He said he could settle them, but he wanted me to help him secure the eastern parcel.”
Samuel watched him carefully.
“He told me Father had already agreed to sell it. He said the paperwork was nearly complete and that all I needed to do was help him persuade Dr. Lang to write a report that would make Father reconsider the inheritance.”
“You believed him?”
“I wanted to.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
“No.”
Thomas's voice grew quieter.
“He told me that if you couldn't have children, Father might divide the ranch between us. He said it would be fairer. He said you would still have the house and the main pasture, while I could develop the eastern land.”
Samuel stared at him.
“And you agreed.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Thomas looked up.