The woman laughed softly.
“I was teasing.”
He relaxed.
Then he looked into her eyes.
“You don't need one to be complete.”
Her smile faded.
He continued.
“But I don't think wanting one is anything to be ashamed of.”
For a moment, neither spoke.
The lantern flickered beside the papers.
Outside, the wind moved through the cottonwoods.
The woman looked down.
“I don't want just any husband.”
The cowboy's voice softened.
“I wouldn't expect you to.”
She raised her eyes.
And for one suspended heartbeat, the space between them felt impossibly small.
Then the housekeeper called from the kitchen.
“Supper's ready!”
The woman laughed.
The cowboy stepped away.
But that night, neither of them slept easily.
She lay awake wondering whether she had imagined the tenderness in his voice.
He sat beside the dying fireplace, turning the silver locket over in his hands.
The ribbon inside was almost colorless now.
Yet he could still remember the girl who had tied it around his injured wrist.
And he wondered how much longer he could keep his secret.
The woman spent the following morning preparing a list of questions for the county recorder.
She had no intention of allowing the merchant to decide what her inheritance was worth.
By noon, she had organized the papers into three groups.
The first contained deeds and family correspondence.
The second held old survey sketches and references to water use.
The third contained documents she could not identify with certainty.
She placed each group in a separate cloth wrapper and wrote a brief inventory.
The cowboy watched with admiration.
“You'd make a better lawyer than half the men I've met in court.”
She smiled.
“I'd prefer not to spend my life arguing with stubborn men.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Then you've chosen the wrong territory.”
She laughed.
But the next trip into Cedar Run reminded her that the town had not forgotten her arrival.
The cowboy arranged a comfortable wagon and accompanied her to the county records office.
He offered his arm when she stepped down.
She accepted.
As they crossed the dusty street, several men outside the saloon stopped talking.