Same father.
Then damage.
He said:
“I’m sorry.”
She answered:
“Not enough yet.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
He testified.
The banker knew.
Not all.
But enough.
He had warned brother title history irregular.
Brother said sister would sign whatever he put before her.
Banker replied:
“Then get signature.”
That destroyed good-faith defense.
The brother admitted deception.
Why?
Debt.
Gambling initially.
Then loans to cover.
He believed if he sold stable to mountain man and arranged marriage, sister would still have home.
The stable woman stared from gallery.
He truly thought he was saving her.
Twisted.
Terrible.
Human.
The judge invalidated mortgage against her title.
Bank could pursue brother personally for debt and any assets truly his.
Stable belonged to her.
Recorded immediately.
The judge also referred signature deception and fraudulent encumbrance for investigation.
The stable woman stood outside courthouse holding recorded deed.
Not duplicate now.
Official.
Stamped.
Her hands shook.
The mountain man stood six feet away.
Not intruding.
She looked.
“It’s mine.”
“Yes.”
“I thought I’d feel bigger.”
“How feel?”
“Tired.”
He nodded.
She laughed softly.
“Of course you’d ask.”
“What?”
“How I feel.”
She looked at deed.
“Everyone keeps asking what happens next.”
The mountain man said nothing.
She turned.
“What do you want?”
He smiled faintly.
“Still my twelve horses.”
“And?”
He took breath.
“To court you.”
Direct.
Her heart kicked.
She looked toward street.
People passing.
No spectacle.
“Why?”
“Because I liked you at eighteen.”
“Because I respected you at twenty-nine.”
“Because you know horses better than anyone I’ve met.”
“Because you laugh rarely enough that I notice every time.”
“Because you’re stubborn.”
“Because I’m apparently attracted to difficult winters and difficult women.”
She almost smiled.
“Bad answer.”
“Partial.”
He continued.
“And because when you got deed, first thing you asked lawyer was whether employees would still be paid if bank froze accounts.”
She looked.
“That was business.”
“That was character.”
Silence.
“If I say no?”
“I rent stalls and stop asking.”
“If I say yes?”
“I court.”
“No ownership?”
“None.”
“No telling me what I should want?”
“I’ll fail sometimes.”
“At least honest.”
He nodded.
She folded deed.
“Yes.”
His entire face changed.