“So do I.”
That earned another laugh.
Martha’s cheeks darkened.
“She belongs to a family that moves between the reservation country and the border settlements.”
Nathaniel’s eyes became cold.
“My dead wife belonged to an Apache family.”
Martha faltered.
“Yes, but—”
“But what?”
Silence.
Clara wanted him to stop.
Not because he was wrong.
Because every defense made her feel more exposed.
She touched his sleeve.
“Mr. Cole.”
He turned.
“That is enough.”
Nathaniel looked at her hand.
Then her face.
He nodded.
Immediately.
That mattered.
No argument.
No masculine insistence that he was protecting her.
He simply stopped because she asked.
Clara withdrew her hand.
Nathaniel looked toward the wash tub.
Then back.
“I have another question.”
Clara sighed.
“Of course.”
“Would you consider coming to see the ranch?”
The yard went silent again.
Clara stared.
“You mean visit?”
“For a week.”
“You and one relative if you want.”
“You'd have your own room.”
“My children would meet you properly.”
“You'd see the work.”
“The distance.”
“The house.”
“And then?”
“Then you decide whether you want anything more to do with us.”
Martha stared.
The women stared.
Clara did too.
“You're asking me to travel two days north with a stranger and five children.”
“Yes.”
“That sounds foolish when said aloud.”