She Arrived as a Mail-Order Bride—Before She Could Leave, a Cowboy Said, “She’s Mine.”
Chapter 4
They left at dawn.
Samuel told the neighbors they were traveling to the county seat to settle the debt.
He did not tell them about the document.
The road was muddy from the previous night’s storm.
Eleanor rode beside him.
For most of the morning, neither spoke.
Finally she said,
“Do you think my father knew?”
“I don’t know.”
“You think he was involved.”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
She looked at him.
Samuel sighed.
“I think your father knew something.”
“What?”
“Something dangerous enough to make him leave.”
At the county records office, they spent six hours searching old deeds.
The clerk, Mr. Bell, remembered Jonathan Whitmore.
“Quiet man,” he said.
“Did he own property?”
Bell frowned.
“Once.”
“Where?”
“Along the eastern creek.”
Eleanor leaned forward.
“Why did he lose it?”
The clerk lowered his voice.
“He didn’t.”
Samuel’s eyes narrowed.
“Then who has it now?”
Bell hesitated.
“Henry Carter.”
Eleanor felt cold.
“How?”
“According to the records, Whitmore sold it.”
“My father never sold land.”
Bell looked uncomfortable.
“Then someone forged his signature.”
Samuel placed the old document on the desk.
Bell examined it.
“This is a copy.”
“Where is the original?”
The clerk shook his head.
“Missing.”
“Who signed as witness?”
Bell looked at the paper.
Then his face changed.
“Thomas Carter.”
Samuel stood.
“Henry’s brother?”
“Yes.”
Eleanor’s hands trembled.
The pieces were beginning to fit.
Her father’s land had been transferred to Carter.
The original record had disappeared.
And Samuel owed Henry Carter money for land whose boundaries might have been altered years earlier.
As they left the office, a shot cracked through the street.
Samuel grabbed Eleanor and pulled her behind a stone wall.
A second shot struck the building.
“Stay down.”
“I am not a child.”
“I know.”
He drew his pistol.
Across the street, a rider disappeared around the corner.
Samuel waited.
Then he lowered the weapon.
“Someone knows.”
“Knows what?”
“That we’re looking.”
They returned home before sunset.
The house seemed different now.
No longer merely a refuge.
It was evidence.
A battlefield.
That evening, Eleanor found Samuel sitting alone beside the fireplace.
“You could still leave,” he said.
She sat beside him.
“So could you.”
He looked at her.
“Why don’t you?”
“Because I don’t abandon people when trouble begins.”
His jaw tightened.
“You barely know me.”
“I know enough.”
Samuel stared at the fire.
“You deserve a safer man.”
“Perhaps.”
She smiled faintly.
“But I didn’t marry a safe man.”
He looked at her.
“I haven’t married you.”
The words hung between them.
Eleanor’s heart beat harder.
Samuel slowly reached for her hand.
“I don’t want you to think I expect anything from you because you came here as my bride.”
“I know.”
“I want you to choose.”
“Choose what?”
“Whether this becomes a marriage.”
Eleanor looked at his hand around hers.
Then at his scarred face.
“Samuel.”
“Yes?”
“I already chose.”
He waited.
“I stayed.”
His fingers tightened around hers.
Neither spoke.
Outside, thunder rolled across the valley.
Inside, two strangers finally understood that they were no longer strangers.
