She asked:
“What exactly did you do?”
“Bought debt.”
“Then made offer to Henrik.”
“What offer?”
“Pay all balances.”
“Additional two hundred cash.”
“In exchange stable deed transfers.”
Marta’s face hardened again.
“To you.”
“No.”
He removed second document.
Placed it down.
Marta looked.
Deed draft.
Owner:
MARTA LINDHOLM
She froze.
“What?”
Caleb said:
“He signs tomorrow if sober.”
She read again.
Her own name.
Her hands began trembling.
“This isn't funny.”
“No.”
“You expect me to believe Henrik agreed to give me stable?”
“For two hundred cash and no debt?”
“Yes.”
“He’d sell his mother’s grave for less.”
Marta closed eyes briefly.
Pain there.
Caleb hated hearing it.
She looked up.
“Why?”
He answered honestly.
“Because it should already be yours.”
“That’s not reason for you to spend money.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Caleb looked at her.
There were dozens of safer answers.
You work hard.
You deserve it.
Good investment.
None true enough.
He said:
“Because I saw you under a horse nobody else wanted to handle.”
“Because you knew every animal better than the man who owned them.”
“Because when I asked what you got from years of keeping this place alive, you laughed.”
“I’ve heard that laugh before.”
Marta’s eyes narrowed.
“Where?”
“From myself.”
That quieted her.
Caleb continued.
“I spent years building cabin and traps and winter stores alone.”
“People in town think that means I prefer being alone.”
“They're wrong.”
Marta watched.
“I know what it is to work until something becomes yours in every way except paper.”
“And I know what paper can do.”
He touched deed.
“So I changed paper.”
Her throat tightened.
“That still doesn't explain why me.”
Caleb’s gaze moved over her face.
Not her body.
Her face.
“Maybe because I want you.”
The words were blunt.
Marta went still.
Caleb continued before fear made him retreat.
“Not as stable hand.”
“Not because you need place.”
“I want you.”
Marta’s cheeks flushed.
“But I don't want you choosing me because I bought your freedom.”
“So deed goes in your name whether you ever see me again.”
She stared.
“If I tell you to take your mules and go back mountain?”
“I go.”
“And stable?”
“Yours.”
“Debt?”
“Gone.”
“You get nothing?”
“I get three mules.”
Marta almost laughed despite herself.
“That is worst business deal I’ve ever heard.”
“Probably.”
“Why would a sane man do that?”
Caleb looked toward mountain visible beyond barn door.
“I've never been accused of sane.”
Henrik arrived drunk before sunset.
He signed.
Marta expected triumph.
Instead she felt grief.
Her brother barely read deed.
He counted two hundred dollars twice.
Then asked if room over stable was included.
Caleb said:
“Yes.”
Henrik shrugged.
“Then good luck.”
Marta stared at man she had spent years protecting.
“You're leaving?”
“Denver.”
“With what?”
“Money.”
“For how long?”
“Does it matter?”
She wanted to tell him yes.
Wanted him to suddenly become brother she remembered from childhood.
The boy who pulled her sled.
Defended her when other children mocked her height.
Held her hand at father’s funeral.
But adulthood had worn him down into someone else.
Henrik kissed her forehead awkwardly.
“You always liked horses more.”