He hesitated.
Clara smiled through tears.
She took his fingers.
Placed them against the curve beneath her dress.
The baby moved.
Gabriel's eyes widened.
Then he began laughing softly.
Clara laughed too.
For one precious moment, the threats, the law, and the winter seemed far away.
There was only a man.
A woman.
And a child neither of them had expected to bring them together.
Edmund did not abandon the matter immediately.
His attorney contacted Nathaniel Finch.
Letters passed between Wyoming and Missouri.
The dispute became more formal.
But as the facts were examined, Edmund's position proved less simple than his threats suggested.
Clara had not signed the proposed agreement.
She had not accepted the settlement.
She was living in a stable home.
She was married.
She had received prenatal care.
And there was no evidence that the child's welfare required removing the baby from her after birth.
Those facts did not automatically settle every possible question concerning Edmund's legal rights or responsibilities.
Finch was careful to explain that.
But they undermined the assumption that Edmund could simply arrive with money and decide the child's future.
The correspondence also revealed another problem for him.
His engagement in St. Louis had become public knowledge.
The woman he intended to marry had learned of his relationship with Clara.
Her family demanded an explanation.
Edmund's carefully managed reputation began unraveling.
For months, he had tried to contain the situation through private arrangements.
Now the very secrecy he depended on became difficult to maintain.
His attorneys advised caution.
A public dispute could expose facts he had avoided acknowledging.
Witnesses might be called.
Letters could be examined.
Promises would be questioned.
And his own conduct could become part of the record.
Gabriel didn't celebrate those developments.
He understood that public humiliation wasn't a substitute for justice.
He wanted the matter resolved according to the law.
And he wanted Clara to be able to raise her child without living under constant threats.
So he supported Finch's work.
Preserved the letters.
Kept the ranch records in order.
And made sure Clara had the opportunity to participate in every decision affecting her future.
He didn't speak for her when she was capable of speaking for herself.
Sometimes he disagreed with her.
Sometimes she disagreed with him.
But they began approaching the problem as partners.
That mattered more than either of them realized.
One evening, after reading another letter from Finch, Clara looked toward Gabriel.
"You don't have to keep doing this."
He frowned.
"Doing what?"
"Helping me."
Gabriel stared.
Then smiled faintly.
"Clara, we're married."
She looked down.
"I know."
He approached.
Took her hand.
Then said quietly, "And I'm not helping you because I have to."
Her eyes filled.
"I'm helping because I want our family to be safe."
Clara looked toward him.
For a moment, she seemed unable to speak.
Then she whispered, "Our family?"
Gabriel swallowed.
He looked toward her stomach.
For several seconds, he was silent.
Then nodded.
"Yes."