“Harlan’s.”
“Why?”
“Scissors.”
Clara stared.
“You don’t have to ride six hours for scissors.”
“I want supper tonight.”
She laughed despite herself.
He returned after dark with new scissors.
Two pairs.
Clara kept both.
Years later, they still argued about who had been right.
They were both right about things that mattered more.
When Silas returned from hunting later than promised, he explained.
When Clara spent money from shared household fund, she told him.
When either made decisions that affected the other, they asked.
Not always first.
They failed.
Then repaired.
That became marriage too.
The first major test came two years later.
A mining company from Colorado arrived at Harlan’s Crossing offering cash for claims in the upper granite basin.
The company representative, Theodore Black, wore polished boots and spoke like every sentence had already been approved by men richer than anyone in Wyoming.
He approached Silas first.
Of course.
Men always did.
Clara stood beside him outside Harlan’s store.
Black unfolded a map.
“We’re prepared to purchase mineral rights across twenty sections.”
Silas barely looked.
“No.”
Black smiled.
“I haven’t given price.”
“No.”
Clara watched.
The map included land near their spring.
“Excuse me,” she said.
Black continued speaking to Silas.
“Initial offer is eight thousand, with—”
Clara reached over and put one finger on the map.
“This parcel.”
Black finally looked at her.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Whose name is on it?”
He glanced.
“Rourke.”
“Which Rourke?”
He checked document.
“Silas Rourke.”
Silas frowned.
Clara looked at him.
That was wrong.
The eastern half was legally Clara’s after their marriage settlement and later deed division.
She turned toward Black.
“Your map is outdated.”
“It came from county records.”
“Then county records are wrong.”
Black smiled politely.
“I’m sure Mr. Rourke can clarify.”
Clara’s expression hardened.
“Mrs. Rourke is clarifying.”
Harlan, listening from doorway, almost smiled.
Black looked at Silas.
Silas said:
“She owns east half.”
Black’s smile faded.
“Entirely?”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps we discuss both interests.”
Clara asked:
“What do you want?”
“Exploratory rights.”
“For?”
“Silver.”
“Where?”
Black pointed toward ridge.
“Test shafts here.”
“That drains toward spring.”
“Our engineers believe—”
“No.”
He blinked.
Silas looked at Clara.
She expected him to echo.
He did not.
Good.
Black tried again.
“Mrs. Rourke, eight thousand dollars—”
“No.”
“Ten.”
“No.”
“May I ask why?”
Clara looked at the mountain.
“Because water is worth more than silver if you live here.”
Black laughed lightly.
“That is sentimental.”
“No.”
“It’s arithmetic.”
She pointed.
“If you poison spring, I haul water six miles.”
“If your company leaves, I stay.”
“If timber slides, I repair.”
“If soil goes bad, I lose animals.”
“You leave with ore.”
“I live with hole.”
Black’s face changed.
He had expected an uneducated mountain woman.