Emma’s eyes narrowed.
“That does not sound right.”
“I know.”
“You checked?”
“I’m a rancher.”
“That does not answer me.”
“It means when I stare at three columns of numbers long enough, they begin breeding.”
Emma tried not to laugh.
Failed.
Elias smiled.
The first full smile she had seen.
It changed his face dramatically.
For one dangerous second, Emma forgot to be cautious.
Then she remembered.
“You wrote in your letter that you struggled with accounts.”
“Yes.”
“Who else knew that?”
“Anyone who ever watched me pay for something.”
Emma looked toward the saloon.
“And Amos works for Bell?”
“Sometimes.”
“Bell knows you wrote for a wife?”
“Everybody does.”
“Did he know I keep books?”
Elias went quiet.
Emma saw the thought arrive.
“Your letter.”
“Yes.”
“If somebody opened it.”
“They would know.”
Emma leaned back.
Her pulse accelerated.
“You think Bell intercepted our correspondence because he was afraid I might look at your accounts?”
“I think that sounds too large for one afternoon.”
“It sounded too large for me to be mocked by an entire town before lunch too.”
Elias looked at her.
“Fair.”
Emma folded her hands.
“What happens if you do not pay Bell?”
“He forecloses in six weeks.”
“Then buys the ranch at auction.”
“Yes.”
“And gets the spring.”
“Yes.”
Emma stared toward the road.
There it was.
Not proof.
A motive.
Elias said, “You don’t have to involve yourself.”
She looked at him.
“You brought me halfway across Kansas to become your wife.”
“I invited you.”
“There’s a distinction?”
“Yes.”
“Explain.”
“If you decide not to marry me, the debt remains mine.”
“If you decide to stay long enough to see whether we suit each other, I won’t use the debt to make that decision for you.”
“And if I leave tomorrow?”
“I take you to the train myself.”
“What if I stay a week?”
“You stay a week.”
“A month?”
“A month.”
“What about the marriage document?”
“Paper.”
Emma stared.
“That signature was expensive paper.”
“Still paper.”
His eyes held hers.
“You are not married to me because a clerk bought you a ticket.”
Something loosened in Emma’s chest.
Nathaniel Vale had once told her marriage was a contract in which the smarter spouse learned to use the clauses nobody read.
Elias treated the only contract between them like it meant less than her choice.
Emma looked away.
“Where would I sleep at your ranch?”
“My spare room.”
“Not yours?”
“No.”
“Why?”
He seemed confused.
“Because you haven’t married me.”
“And if I do?”
Elias’s ears reddened slightly.
Emma noticed.
Interesting.
“If you do,” he said, “we discuss it then.”
“Discuss what?”
He looked directly at her.
“Where you want to sleep.”
Emma’s pulse changed again.
She stood carefully.
Elias rose too.
“Take me to the ranch tomorrow.”
His expression stayed controlled.
Only his eyes changed.
“You’re sure?”
“No.”
“Good answer.”
“I’m not marrying you tomorrow.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“I may decide I dislike you.”