“This isn’t pride.”
“It sounds like fear.”
“It is.”
The honesty stopped her.
Cole stepped closer.
“I can replace a window.”
His voice lowered.
“I can replace cattle.”
Another step.
“I cannot replace you.”
Abigail’s heartbeat changed.
Cole seemed surprised by his own words.
He looked away.
Abigail stood.
“Cole.”
He turned back.
“I’m not leaving because someone threw a rock.”
“You could get hurt.”
“So could you.”
“I know.”
“And yet you remain.”
“This is my ranch.”
Abigail held up the note.
“It says wife.”
She set it down.
“That makes it my threat too.”
Cole looked at her for a long time.
Then nodded.
“All right.”
Something changed that night.
Not dramatically.
No kiss.
No confession.
But after boarding the window, Cole moved a chair into the kitchen.
He slept there with the rifle beside him.
Abigail found him at dawn.
His neck was bent awkwardly.
She stood over him.
“You look ridiculous.”
His eyes opened.
“Good morning.”
“You have a bed.”
“So do you.”
“I wasn’t the one sleeping in a chair.”
Cole stretched painfully.
Abigail looked at the rifle.
“You stayed here because of me.”
“Yes.”
“You could have told me.”
“You would’ve argued.”
“Yes.”
“I was tired.”
She almost smiled.
Then she noticed a blanket had been folded on the second chair.
For her.
Not that she had needed it.
Still.
She touched the edge.
“Cole.”
He looked up.
“Thank you.”
His expression softened.
“You’re welcome.”
The sixth ranch belonged to a widow named Sarah Pike.
She had lost her husband two years earlier.
Blackwood had nearly taken the property after claiming missed payments.
Sarah produced receipts.
Abigail found exactly what she feared.
The missing payments were not errors.
They formed a pattern.
Blackwood’s bank reduced credited amounts most aggressively when borrowers approached key equity thresholds.
When ranchers were close to owning enough of their land outright to refinance elsewhere, their balances mysteriously stopped falling.
Abigail spread six accounts across Sarah’s table.
Cole stood behind her.
Amos Bell sat nearby.
Sarah stared at the numbers.
“This means what?”
Abigail answered quietly.
“It means Blackwood does not want debts repaid.”
Silence.
“He wants ranches permanently vulnerable.”
Cole leaned forward.
“Why?”
Abigail looked at the map hanging on Sarah’s wall.
Something connected.
Ranch locations.
A line.
Not random.
She stood.
“Cole.”
He followed her gaze.
Abigail pointed.
“Your ranch.”
Then Bell’s.
Then Pike’s.
Then two others.
A corridor.
Cole’s expression sharpened.
“Rail route.”
Sarah frowned.
“What?”
Cole stepped closer.
“Territorial survey last year.”
Abigail looked at him.
“You never mentioned that.”