“Being the oldest doesn’t make you your father.”
Jack whispered:
“Someone has to be.”
“No.”
The boy looked at him.
“Your father already existed.”
“You don’t honor him by pretending you can replace him.”
Jack’s chin trembled.
Cole continued.
“You honor him by being Jack.”
The boy began crying.
Quietly.
Angrily.
Cole remembered Lily’s question.
Did you cry?
He pulled Jack against him.
The boy resisted for one second.
Then broke.
Sarah saw them from outside the barn.
She turned away before either noticed.
That night she cried alone.
Not from sadness.
From relief.
Something in her stopped viewing Cole Blackwood as merely the man sheltering them.
That frightened her.
February brought another problem.
Harold Pierce arrived at Blackwood Ridge.
Sarah saw his wagon and felt her stomach tighten.
Cole met him in the yard.
“What do you want?”
Harold held out papers.
“Debt.”
Sarah came outside.
“I have the money.”
She had saved seventy-five dollars from three months’ wages.
Cole looked at her.
“You don’t have to pay today.”
“Yes.”
She went inside.
Returned with sixty dollars.
Harold counted slowly.
Then smiled.
“The note includes interest.”
Sarah froze.
“What?”
“Eight percent.”
“That wasn’t in Daniel’s copy.”
Harold produced the paper.
“It’s here.”
Sarah read it.
Eight percent monthly.
Impossible.
Cole took the paper.
His expression darkened.
“That’s not Daniel’s signature.”
Harold stiffened.
“It most certainly is.”
Sarah looked.
Cole was right.
The D looked wrong.
She had watched Daniel sign his name thousands of times.
“This is forged.”
Harold’s face changed.
“Careful.”
Cole stepped forward.
“You threatening her?”
“I’m warning her.”
“Wrong ranch.”
Harold looked between them.
Then at Sarah.
“You think living here changes what you owe?”
“No.”
Sarah held up the money.
“I owe sixty dollars.”
“I will pay sixty.”
“Nothing more.”
Harold laughed.
“You have no legal standing to decide that.”
Cole smiled without humor.
“I know someone who does.”
Two days later, Cole rode with Sarah to Deadwood and put both versions of the debt agreement before an attorney.
The forgery was obvious.
Harold withdrew his demand immediately once legal action was threatened.
Sarah repaid the original sixty.
She kept fifteen.
On the ride home, she looked toward Cole.
“You didn’t pay it.”
“You told me not to.”
“You could have.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Cole frowned.
“Because you asked me not to.”
Sarah smiled.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That isn’t nothing.”
She looked ahead.
“I’m getting used to being listened to.”
Cole’s expression softened.
“You shouldn’t have to get used to it.”
The answer stayed with her.
Spring came late.
Snow melted from the lower fields.
The Dawson children transformed with the weather.
Ben became an excellent rider.
Emma and Ella planted vegetables with Martha.
Jacob remained a threat to fences everywhere.
Grace learned to read simple books.
Lily stopped asking when they were going home.
That was the problem.
One afternoon, Sarah heard her talking to Amos the dog.
“This is home.”
Sarah stopped.
The words frightened her.
Their agreement had been one winter.
Winter was ending.
Sarah had saved nearly one hundred dollars after expenses.
Enough to rent a small house perhaps.
Enough to start again.
She should have been relieved.
Instead, the thought made her sick.
Cole felt it too.
He began becoming distant.
Meals became quieter.
He spent longer hours outside.
Sarah finally cornered him in the barn.
“Are you avoiding me?”
“No.”
“You are.”
“I’m working.”
“You worked all winter without forgetting how conversation functions.”
Cole turned.
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
He laughed bitterly.
“You always want that.”
“Yes.”
“Winter’s over.”
Sarah’s chest tightened.
“I know.”
“Our agreement was winter.”
“I know.”
“You have money now.”
“I know.”
Cole turned away.
Sarah stared.
“You want us gone.”
He spun back.
“No.”
The force of the answer startled them both.
Sarah stepped closer.
“Then what?”
Cole’s hands tightened.
“What exactly am I supposed to offer you?”
“A job?”
“You already have one.”
“A room?”
“You already have one.”
“Charity?”
“You’d hate me for it.”
Sarah whispered:
“Maybe you’re offering the wrong things.”
Cole stared.
She took another step.
“What are you asking for?”
He could barely say it.
“Stay.”
Sarah’s eyes filled.
“All of us?”
“Every loud, destructive one.”
She laughed through tears.
“Jacob included?”
Cole sighed.
“Unfortunately.”
Sarah smiled.
“And me?”
Cole went still.
“Especially you.”
Neither moved.
Sarah looked at the scar running along his face.
She raised one hand slowly.
Cole did not flinch when her fingers touched it.
“You scare me.”
His expression closed.
Sarah continued.
“Not because of this.”
Her fingers followed the scar lightly.
“Because I’m beginning to want something I promised myself I would never need again.”
“What?”
She looked into his eyes.
“A future with someone.”
Cole swallowed.
“Sarah.”
“I loved Daniel.”
“I know.”
“I still do.”
“I know.”
“Does that bother you?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
Sarah searched his face.
“How can it not?”
“Because he gave you those seven children.”
Cole looked toward the house.
“He loved you.”
“Anyone who loved you enough to give you that family doesn’t have to be erased for me to care what happens next.”
Sarah began crying.
Cole looked alarmed.
“I said something wrong.”
“No.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“You are unbelievably bad at this.”
“At what?”
She grabbed the front of his coat and kissed him.
Cole froze.
Sarah almost pulled away.
Then his arms wrapped around her.
The kiss changed.
Years of grief did not disappear.
Neither forgot Rebecca.
Neither forgot Daniel.
But for one moment, neither allowed the dead to decide whether the living were permitted to feel.