“Because I needed proof.”
She looked toward the Younger Sister.
“And because I needed to know whether Father’s plan had already worked.”
“What plan?”
The Fiancée’s laugh was bitter.
“Our marriage.”
The Cowboy’s stomach tightened.
“What about it?”
The Fiancée pointed toward the document.
“The agreement Father asked you to sign after the wedding would have transferred management control over the southern parcel.”
“Yes.”
“That parcel is not mine.”
The Cowboy looked toward the Younger Sister.
The Fiancée nodded.
“It is hers.”
Silence.
The Younger Sister whispered, “No.”
The Fiancée continued.
“Father knew he could not sell it without her signature.”
The Cowboy remembered the proposed company.
“So he planned to combine it with your marital property.”
“Yes.”
“Would that be legal?”
“Not if anyone inspected the original deed.”
“But the county record—”
“Was altered.”
The Cowboy swore.
The Younger Sister’s face had become strangely empty.
She looked at her own name on the paper.
“Father did this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The Fiancée hesitated.
That hesitation answered part of it.
The Younger Sister looked up.
“Say it.”
The Fiancée’s eyes filled.
“He did not think you would ever marry.”
The Younger Sister flinched.
“He said you would always remain dependent on the family.”
The Cowboy’s hands curled into fists.
The Fiancée continued because stopping would only leave the cruelty half exposed.
“He said land should stay with the daughter who could make a useful alliance.”
The Younger Sister’s round face crumpled.
The Cowboy moved toward her.
She stepped away from both.
“No.”
Her voice shook.
“Do not touch me.”
He stopped immediately.
She looked at her sister.
“You knew for three weeks.”
“Yes.”
“And still let me sew your wedding linens.”
The Fiancée closed her eyes.
“I was trying—”
“You let me.”
“I was trying to find everything.”
“You let me stand in your bedroom and alter the dress.”
“I know.”
“You let me ask whether you wanted pearl buttons.”
The Fiancée began crying.
“I am sorry.”
The Younger Sister laughed once, painfully.
“I thought I was helping you.”
“You were.”
“That does not make it better.”
“No.”
The Cowboy looked between them.
“What did you mean when you said the wedding ended three weeks ago?”
The Fiancée wiped her face.
“I canceled it.”
He stared.
“With who?”
“Father.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“No.”
“That generally requires both participants.”
The Fiancée almost laughed through tears.
“I knew you would agree.”
He went still.
“Why?”
She looked toward her sister.
“Because you have been looking at her like a starving man watching bread since March.”
The Younger Sister’s face turned crimson.
The Cowboy felt unexpectedly embarrassed.
The Fiancée continued.
“I noticed before either of you admitted anything.”
“You said nothing.”