“No.”
She smiled through tears.
“You are stubborn about this.”
“So are you.”
Clara stepped closer.
Silas remained still.
She put her arms around him.
He froze.
His hands stayed at sides.
Clara whispered:
“You can hold me.”
His arms came around slowly.
Carefully.
No possession.
Only warmth.
When she stepped back, his face was unreadable except eyes.
“I’ll see you.”
He nodded.
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
Another test.
He accepted.
Clara rode down the mountain with Harlan.
She did not look back until last turn.
Silas stood where she left him.
He did not follow.
At Harlan’s Crossing, Ephraim was waiting.
Word traveled faster than horses.
He stood outside trading post wearing the blanket he had not sold.
His face showed relief first.
Then anger.
“You.”
Clara dismounted.
He marched toward her.
“Get inside.”
She stared.
“No.”
Ephraim stopped.
“What?”
“I said no.”
His face changed.
“You’ve been with that man too long.”
Clara almost laughed.
“I learned word before Silas.”
“You’re my daughter.”
“Yes.”
“You come home.”
“No.”
“Clara.”
“Did you tell people he kidnapped me?”
Ephraim looked toward Harlan.
“That what Pike says?”
“I’m asking you.”
Ephraim lowered voice.
“He took advantage.”
“You offered me.”
“I was desperate.”
“You said it made no difference if he kept me.”
His face twitched.
“I didn’t mean—”
“You meant enough to say.”
“I was starving.”
“So was I.”
Silence.
People had begun watching.
Clara did not care.
Ephraim looked at her clothing.
“You look fed.”
The statement sickened her.
“Yes.”
“Then maybe it worked.”
Clara stared.
Her father realized too late.
She took one step back.
“No.”
“What?”
“You do not get to turn what happened into a successful bargain.”
“I’m alive.”
“You’re alive because Silas gave you food.”
“Not because he took me.”
Ephraim’s face hardened.
“He paid for you.”
Harlan stepped out.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
Harlan held ledger.
“Silas Rourke paid Ephraim Whitmore’s store debt and purchased provisions in Ephraim’s name.”
“He did not purchase Clara.”
Ephraim glared.
“You know what it was.”
Harlan said:
“I know what you meant.”
“That doesn’t make it lawful, decent, or binding.”
A constable standing near livery shifted.
Clara looked at him.
“Am I under arrest?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Does my father have legal order requiring me live with him?”
“No.”
Ephraim snapped:
“She’s unmarried.”
The constable looked embarrassed.
“She’s twenty-four.”
Ephraim turned on Clara.
“You think eighty dollars makes you lady now?”