“Not if the bank takes them.”
Garrick stared.
Crow smiled.
“The note comes due after harvest.”
Nola’s attention sharpened.
Garrick had not told her that.
Crow continued:
“You cannot make the payment.”
“I might.”
“With what?”
“Half your herd is underweight.”
“Your youngest is sick.”
“Your wife gone.”
“House help costs money.”
His eyes flicked toward Nola inside.
“Though perhaps not much in this case.”
Nola’s jaw tightened.
Garrick’s eyes became dangerous.
Good.
Crow saw the anger.
Mistook its cause.
He smiled.
“Six thousand.”
“Cash.”
“You keep personal belongings.”
“I take the land, structures, cattle, water.”
Garrick stared at him.
Then:
“Eight.”
Crow laughed.
“You’re in no position.”
“Then ride home.”
Crow’s smile faded.
Garrick turned toward the door.
Crow said:
“Seven.”
Garrick paused.
Nola almost smiled.
Greedy men believed negotiation meant ownership.
Garrick turned.
“Seven-five.”
Crow studied him.
Then:
“Tomorrow.”
“Bring papers.”
“I will.”
Crow mounted.
Before leaving, he looked once toward the upstairs window.
Weston’s room.
That glance lasted only a second.
Nola saw.
When Crow disappeared, Garrick entered the house.
He looked furious.
“You didn’t tell me about the bank.”
Nola said.
Garrick stopped.
“Not relevant.”
“It is if Crow knows.”
“I was handling it.”
“You were failing to handle it privately.”
His eyes flashed.
Nola continued:
“How much?”
“Twenty-eight hundred.”
“When?”
“Six weeks.”
“What happens if you miss?”
“Foreclosure proceedings.”
“Bank local?”
“No.”
“Who arranged the note?”
Garrick looked away.
Nola understood before he answered.
“Crow.”
He hated saying it.
“He introduced me to the lender after Mae got sick.”
Nola sat.
“Of course.”
Garrick ran a hand through his hair.
“I needed money.”
“Doctor bills.”
“Feed.”
“Labor.”
“I know.”
“No.”
“You don’t.”
He turned on her.
“You walk into this house and see everything I did wrong.”
“I see burned food.”
“Sick children.”
“Debt.”
“A dying ranch.”
“You think I don't know?”
His voice rose.
“I wake up knowing.”
“I go to sleep knowing.”
“I knew every board on this porch that needed replacing while my wife coughed blood upstairs.”
“I knew Eli was raising the little ones while I rode fence.”
“I knew Clara’s dress was too small.”
“I knew.”
He stopped.
Breathing hard.
The children were upstairs.
Quiet.
Nola looked at him.
Then:
“I never said you didn't.”
Garrick’s anger had nowhere to go.
She continued softly:
“You think knowing should have made you capable of fixing everything.”
“It doesn’t.”
His eyes filled.
“You were one man.”
“You were grieving.”
“You were scared.”
“You made desperate choices.”
“That does not mean every consequence belongs to you.”
He turned away.
Nola stood.
“And stop using me as another reason to punish yourself.”