Before that, his grandfather.
Large log-and-stone house.
Barn.
Bunkhouse.
Smokehouse.
Two corrals.
Windmill.
A river cutting through the eastern pasture before bending south.
The river was why Caleb wanted the land.
Elias parked beside the porch.
Snow already covered the roof.
One ranch hand stepped from the bunkhouse.
Ben Turner.
Sixty-two.
Gray beard.
One eye permanently narrowed by an old injury.
He looked toward Lara.
Then Elias.
Then Lara again.
Elias said:
“Ben.”
“Yep.”
“This is Lara Higgins.”
Ben removed his hat.
“Ma'am.”
Lara blinked.
“Good evening.”
“She'll stay here until weather clears.”
Ben looked toward the sky.
“Might be a while.”
Lara’s face tightened.
Elias noticed.
“Ben.”
“Yep.”
“Bring the wide dining bench from the bunkhouse.”
Ben looked at Lara.
Then immediately looked back at Elias.
No joke.
No surprise.
“Sure.”
Elias turned toward Lara.
“The front steps are steep.”
“I can see.”
“I can put a plank over the side rise.”
She frowned.
“A ramp?”
“If you want.”
The offer sounded dangerous to her pride.
He saw.
She said:
“I'll try the steps.”
“All right.”
Elias climbed first.
Then stopped above.
Not reaching.
Available.
Lara gathered her skirt.
First step.
Her knees hurt visibly.
Second.
She stopped.
Snow wet the boards.
Her breathing became heavy.
Elias said:
“Lara.”
“I’m fine.”
“I know.”
“Then stop looking at me like—”
The edge of her boot slipped.
She caught the rail.
Elias moved instinctively.
One hand around her forearm.
The other near her elbow.
He did not try to lift her.
That would have been impossible and humiliating.
He simply stabilized her.
Lara froze.
Their eyes met.
“You have me?”
she whispered.
“Yes.”
She took another step.
Then another.
At the top, he released her immediately.
Lara stood breathing hard.
Her face flushed.
“Thank you.”
“Tomorrow I build the ramp.”
She opened her mouth.
Elias lifted one eyebrow.
She closed it.
“Fine.”
Ben pretended not to smile.
Inside, the house was colder than Elias liked.
He had been gone most of the day.
The iron stove had nearly burned out.
He fed wood.
Lara looked around.
Large room.
Stone fireplace.
Long table.
Shelves.
Rifle above the door.
Two bedrooms downstairs.
One loft.
Everything clean enough.
Nothing soft.
No curtains.
No rugs except a hide near the hearth.
One chipped ceramic pitcher.
A copper pot.
Three chairs.
One chair was visibly narrow.
Elias looked at it.
Then at Lara.
“Don't.”
She said it before he could move.
He stopped.
She pointed toward the long wall bench.
“I can sit there.”
“Good.”
He removed his coat.
“What do you eat?”