He had wanted the same thing.
He had begun falling in love with a woman he barely knew.
And now he had to decide what to do with that hope.
Finally, he stood.
Clara flinched.
He noticed.
His expression tightened.
Then he walked toward the fireplace and added another piece of wood.
For a while, he watched the flames.
Then he spoke without turning.
"I won't send a pregnant woman onto the road tonight."
Clara covered her mouth.
He continued.
"And I won't let a stranger come into my house and drag you away."
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
"Gabriel."
He raised one hand slightly.
"But that doesn't mean things are right between us."
She nodded.
"I understand."
He turned.
His eyes were filled with pain.
"You've broken something before we even had a chance to build it."
Clara lowered her head.
"I know."
He looked toward the stairs.
"You'll remain in your room. I'll remain in mine."
She nodded.
"And tomorrow, we'll decide what needs doing."
Clara swallowed.
"All right."
Gabriel looked toward her stomach again.
For a long moment, something unreadable crossed his face.
Then he asked quietly, "Have you been seeing a doctor?"
She shook her head.
"Not since Missouri."
He frowned.
"Are you well?"
The question surprised her.
After everything she'd confessed, he was still concerned about her health.
"I think so."
He nodded slowly.
"I'll ask Mrs. Bell to come."
"Who's Mrs. Bell?"
"The midwife in town. She's helped half the families in this valley."
Clara's eyes filled again.
Gabriel looked embarrassed by her reaction.
He turned toward the door.
"I'm going to check the horses."
She stood quickly.
"Gabriel."
He stopped.
She wanted to apologize again.
Wanted to beg him to stay.
Wanted to tell him that she was already beginning to love him, though she knew she had no right to ask him to believe it.
Instead, she whispered, "Thank you for not sending me away."
He stood with one hand on the door latch.
For several seconds, he didn't turn.
Then he answered quietly.
"Don't thank me yet."
He opened the door.
Cold air rushed into the house.
Then he stepped outside.
Clara watched the door close.
And only when she was alone did she allow herself to collapse onto the bench and sob.
Gabriel walked to the barn without his coat.
He didn't notice the cold until the wind struck his face.
Then he stopped beside the fence and stood looking across the dark pasture.
He could barely see the cattle.
A few shapes moved near the watering trough.
Beyond them stretched the land he had spent thirteen years building into a ranch.
Nine hundred acres.
Fields.
Pasture.
Creek access.
A large barn.