“I think I’ll regret all the months you wasted.”
That night, Callaway did not sleep on the cot.
The details belonged to them.
What mattered was that every step happened because Maeve chose it.
And when she whispered wait, he waited.
When she said closer, he came closer.
When she finally said stay, Callaway stayed.
Morning found the cot empty.
Maeve noticed it first.
She smiled into the pillow.
Callaway, half awake beside her, murmured, “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Dangerous answer.”
Maeve turned toward him.
“I was just admiring the cot.”
He opened one eye.
“Burn it.”
She laughed.
Spring transformed the valley.
Snow withdrew from the lower slopes.
Purple flowers appeared in the north pasture exactly as Patrick had described in his letters.
Maeve stood among them one morning with tears in her eyes.
Her father had seen this.
Decades earlier, he had stood on the same ground.
Callaway came beside her.
Maeve handed him one of Patrick’s letters.
“He loved this place.”
“Yes.”
“Why do you think he never told me?”
Callaway considered carefully.
“Maybe losing it hurt more than he wanted you to inherit.”
Maeve looked toward the mountains.
“That sounds like him.”
They stood quietly.
Then Maeve said, “I don’t want to lose it either.”
Callaway looked at her.
“Neither do I.”
The railroad surveyors arrived in May.
Three engineers.
Two company representatives.
A lawyer.
And, to Maeve’s surprise, Silas Mercer.
He no longer owned any legal claim, but he had purchased neighboring land that could provide an alternative route.
Maeve understood immediately.
If the railroad rejected the Gallagher-Callaway route, Mercer could profit from his own corridor.
He had changed strategy.
Not given up.
The company proposed a generous payment for passage across the north ridge.
Maeve read the contract.
Every word.
Callaway waited.
The railroad representative became impatient.
“It is a very strong offer.”
Maeve looked up.
“It also gives you unrestricted blasting rights within two hundred yards of our spring.”
“Standard language.”
“Then standard language is unacceptable.”
Callaway hid a smile.
The lawyer said, “Mrs. Gallagher—”
“Miss Gallagher.”
“My apologies.”
“Accepted.”
“The route is economically important.”
“So is water.”
“We can compensate you.”
Maeve leaned back.
“You cannot compensate cattle with money when the creek is dry.”
Callaway looked at the survey map.
“What if you move the cut east?”
The engineer shook his head.
“Rock grade.”
Maeve pointed toward another section.
“What about a raised trestle?”
The engineer blinked.
“That would cost considerably more.”
Maeve smiled.
“Yes.”
Silas spoke from the edge of the room.
“My corridor requires no trestle.”
Maeve looked at him.
“And crosses unstable shale.”
The engineers turned.
Silas’s expression tightened.
Maeve placed another document on the table.
Callaway had found geological notes among Thomas’s papers.
They showed two landslides on Mercer’s proposed route.
One had killed three cattle.