“I Thought Nobody Would Come,” She Said. The Cowboy Had Ridden All Night to Find Her
Chapter 3
Samuel had known Clara since they were children.
Her father had allowed him to work cattle on the Whitmore land when Samuel was seventeen.
Clara had been fourteen.
She used to sit on the fence and watch him ride.
He remembered her laughing when he fell from a young horse.
He remembered pretending to be angry.
He remembered her handing him an apple afterward.
Years passed.
Clara grew into a woman.
Samuel became a respected cattle hand.
Neither spoke of what had changed between them.
Not until one autumn evening, when Clara’s father died.
Samuel had stood beside her at the funeral.
She had cried silently.
He had wanted to hold her.
He had not.
Because she was the daughter of the man who employed him.
Because he owned little more than a horse, a rifle, and two hands capable of hard work.
Because he believed Clara deserved better.
Now he looked at her across the table.
“I should have come sooner.”
She shook her head.
“You couldn’t have known.”
“I should have asked.”
“You did.”
“When?”
“Every time you came to the farm.”
Samuel frowned.
“You always asked if I was well.”
Clara smiled sadly.
“That was your way of asking.”
He looked away.
“I thought you were happy.”
“With what?”
“Your life.”
Clara laughed softly.
“My life?”
She touched the marriage contract.
“My uncle has decided my life belongs to whoever can pay him enough.”
Samuel’s expression hardened.
“Not anymore.”
She looked at him.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
It was the first honest answer he had given.
Samuel was strong.
He was skilled.
He was fearless on horseback.
But he had no fortune.
He could not simply pay three hundred pounds.
And if Edmund Harrow had already obtained the deed, there might be nothing he could do legally.
Clara stood.
“There is more.”
She opened a drawer.
Inside was a small leather pouch.
She removed several folded papers.
“My father hid these.”
Samuel opened the first.
It was an old survey.
The second was a receipt.
The third was a letter.
He read slowly.
Then stopped.
“This changes everything.”
“What?”
Samuel looked at her.
“Your father did not owe your uncle this money.”
Clara stared.
“What?”
“The debt was already paid.”
She stepped closer.
“Are you certain?”
Samuel pointed to the receipt.
“Your father paid the original debt six months before he died.”
Clara’s face went pale.
“Then why does my uncle say otherwise?”
Samuel folded the receipt.
“Because he wants this land.”
Outside, thunder rolled across the valley.
Samuel looked toward the dark window.
“How long until he returns?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
Samuel stood.
“Then we have until sunrise.”
