“I Thought Nobody Would Come,” She Said. The Cowboy Had Ridden All Night to Find Her
Chapter 2
Samuel Boone had spent most of his life on horseback.
He knew when a horse was tired.
He knew when an animal needed water, when a hoof was beginning to crack, and when a storm would turn a harmless trail into a river of mud.
But that night, even he had pushed his horse too hard.
Because Clara’s letter had contained only six words that frightened him more than any warning could have.
Come before they take me.
There had been no explanation.
No name.
No address.
Only the name of her family farm.
Samuel had been in the western pasture when the letter arrived.
He had read it once.
Then again.
Then he had saddled his fastest horse.
He had not waited for daylight.
Now Clara stepped aside.
“Come inside.”
Samuel entered.
The farmhouse was small.
A table.
Two chairs.
A stone hearth.
A wooden chest.
A narrow staircase leading to the sleeping loft.
Nothing about it suggested wealth.
But Clara’s family had once owned hundreds of acres.
Her father had died two winters earlier.
Since then, the property had slowly fallen into debt.
Samuel removed his wet coat.
“Where is your uncle?”
Clara’s face tightened.
“Gone to town.”
“Why?”
“He said he was meeting the magistrate.”
Samuel looked at her.
“About the farm?”
“Yes.”
He understood.
“Has he sold it?”
Clara shook her head.
“He says he has.”
“But you don’t believe him.”
“No.”
She walked to the table.
Samuel noticed the papers scattered across it.
A deed.
A letter.
A receipt.
And something else.
A marriage contract.
His eyes stopped on it.
“Clara.”
She followed his gaze.
“That is why I sent for you.”
Samuel picked up the document.
“Who is this man?”
“Edmund Harrow.”
Samuel knew the name.
A wealthy landholder from three counties east.
Older.
Widowed.
Known for buying farms from families who could no longer pay their debts.
“You are being forced to marry him?”
Clara shook her head.
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“My uncle says if I refuse, he will sell the farm.”
Samuel’s jaw tightened.
“And if you agree?”
“He says Mr. Harrow will forgive the debt.”
Samuel looked down at the paper.
“How much?”
“Three hundred pounds.”
He stared at her.
“That debt is impossible.”
“I know.”
“Your father owed less than half that.”
“I know.”
Samuel looked around the room.
“Someone has been adding interest.”
Clara nodded.
“My uncle.”
Silence filled the room.
Samuel placed the paper on the table.
“Why didn’t you leave?”
Clara looked at him.
“Where would I go?”
He had no answer.
Then she whispered:
“That is why I wrote to you.”
