"Yes."
He stood.
Offered his hand.
Clara took it.
And together, they carried their daughter out into the bright Wyoming afternoon.
That summer, Gabriel planted roses beside the front porch.
The soil was stubborn.
The wind was harsh.
And several neighbors warned that the plants might not survive the winter.
He planted them anyway.
Clara watched from a chair near the porch steps, holding Rose.
Gabriel knelt in the dirt.
Carefully settled the roots.
Then packed soil around them.
Clara smiled.
"You know they may not grow."
He looked up.
"Yes."
She raised one eyebrow.
"And you're planting them anyway?"
Gabriel grinned.
"Seems to be a habit of mine."
Clara laughed.
He returned to his work.
For a while, she watched him.
Then Rose began making small sounds.
Clara smiled down at her.
"Look, sweetheart."
The baby waved one hand.
Clara laughed softly.
"Your father is planting roses."
Gabriel stopped moving.
For a moment, he remained kneeling beside the garden.
Then he looked toward Clara.
She hadn't said it deliberately.
Hadn't paused to consider the words.
She simply called him Rose's father.
Because that was what he had become.
Gabriel's eyes filled.
Clara noticed.
Her expression softened.
"Gabriel?"
He smiled.
Then looked down at the soil.
"Nothing."
She stared.
For a moment, she understood.
Tears filled her eyes too.
Gabriel stood.
Brushed dirt from his hands.
Then approached the porch.
He leaned toward Rose.
Kissed her forehead.
Then kissed Clara.
For several seconds, they simply looked at one another.
The sun was bright.
The breeze moved gently through the grass.
And the house that had once seemed too quiet now held the sound of a child beginning to discover her voice.
Gabriel smiled.
"Come on, Miss Rose."
He lifted the baby carefully from Clara's arms.
She looked toward him with wide, curious eyes.
He carried her toward the garden.
Then began explaining the flowers.
Clara laughed.
"Gabriel, she's barely three months old."
He looked back.
"Never too early."
She shook her head affectionately.
He grinned.
Then continued speaking to Rose as though she were the most attentive student in Wyoming Territory.
And for a moment, Clara thought about the newspaper advertisement that brought her there.
A rancher seeking a wife.
A doctor saying he would likely never father children.
A woman traveling west with a secret.