One evening Caleb returned after sunset to find Eliza sitting alone at the kitchen table.
Ledgers surrounded her.
She looked tired.
“You eat?”
“No.”
He placed bread beside her.
“Eat.”
“You sound like Nora.”
“She trained me.”
Eliza smiled faintly.
Caleb sat.
“What are the numbers?”
“Bad.”
“How bad?”
“If we keep current production, we survive winter.”
“And spring?”
“We need income before planting.”
“Timber?”
“Possible.”
“Trapping?”
“Possible.”
Eliza closed one ledger.
“But there is another problem.”
“What?”
“The creek.”
Caleb frowned.
“What about it?”
“The old survey shows the east channel once fed an irrigation ditch.”
“I saw the ditch.”
“It is dry.”
“Collapsed upstream.”
“Yes.”
She opened another paper.
“If restored, we could irrigate nearly twenty acres.”
Caleb stared.
“Twenty?”
“At least.”
“Why didn't Vale fix it?”
“Because he was lazy.”
That sounded correct.
Restoring the ditch took nine days.
The work brought Caleb and Eliza together more than anything before it.
She insisted on helping.
He objected once.
Only once.
Eliza wore an old brown coat over her green dress.
Her hands blistered.
Caleb wrapped them at night.
On the seventh evening, they sat beside the creek while Nora and Claire walked home ahead of them.
Eliza's hands rested in Caleb's lap.
He wound clean cloth around her right palm.
“You're too tight.”
“You complained yesterday it was loose.”
“Yesterday I had circulation.”
Caleb adjusted the bandage.
“Better?”
“Yes.”
Neither moved.
His hand remained around hers.
Eliza looked down.
“You have very large hands.”
Caleb raised an eyebrow.
“That your professional assessment?”
“Yes.”
“Useful for shovels.”
“I noticed.”
Her voice changed slightly.
Caleb looked at her.
Eliza's green eyes held his.
The evening air suddenly felt warmer.
He released her hand slowly.
“You should not look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“You know.”
“I don't.”
Caleb laughed softly.
“Dangerous woman.”
Eliza smiled.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then she said, “You told me wanting a woman and owning her were different.”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me?”
Caleb's breath stopped.
“Eliza.”
“I asked a question.”
“You enjoy difficult ones.”
“Answer.”
He looked toward the darkening field.
Then back at her.
“Yes.”
Her expression did not change, but color rose into her cheeks.
“How long?”
“Long enough to know better.”
“That is not an answer.”
“Since the wagon.”
Her eyes widened.
“The first day?”
“You were standing there arguing about contracts while I was wondering whether I had been robbed.”
“And you wanted me?”
“I said I knew better.”
Eliza's mouth curved.
Caleb leaned closer.
Then stopped.
“This changes nothing.”
“What?”
“Your place here.”
Her expression softened.
“If you don't want me, you stay.”
“Yes.”
“If you do want me and change your mind, you stay.”
“Yes.”
“If we kiss and it goes badly?”
“You stay.”
Eliza leaned toward him.
“And if it goes well?”
Caleb's voice lowered.
“You stay.”
She kissed him.
Not gently.
Caleb froze for half a heartbeat.
Then one hand found her waist.
He held there.
Nothing more.
Eliza pressed closer.
Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt.
The kiss deepened.
When they separated, Caleb rested his forehead against hers.
“You planned that.”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“Perhaps slightly.”
He laughed.
Eliza touched his jaw.
“If I tell you to stop, you stop.”
“Always.”
“If I tell you not to?”
Caleb's eyes darkened.
“That is a different problem.”
She smiled.
“Good.”
They walked back to the house holding hands.
Nora saw.
She said nothing.
Claire saw.
She turned bright red and immediately became interested in peeling potatoes.
The relationship between Caleb and Eliza changed slowly.
There was no secret agreement.
No assumption.
Some nights she kissed him on the porch.
Some nights she did not.
Once Caleb reached for her waist and she shook her head.
He removed his hand instantly.
The next evening she took his hand herself and placed it there.
That mattered.
Every time.
Nora and Claire also changed.
Nora began visiting Red Hollow twice a week to sell butter and bread.
She became friendly with Thomas Greene, a widowed storekeeper who possessed two daughters and no talent for conversation.
Claire joined the church school as a part-time teacher.
She discovered she liked it.
The arrangement Vale had invented began dissolving naturally into something healthier.
Four adults.
One farm.
Different futures.
Winter arrived early.
Snow covered the fields in November.
The repaired irrigation channel froze.
The roof held.
Matilda and the two new cows produced enough milk to keep Nora busy.
Caleb trapped in the hills.
Claire taught three days each week.
Eliza managed money with terrifying precision.
They made it to January.
Then Silas Vale returned.
He arrived after dark.
Caleb heard horses.
Not one.
Three.
He opened the door.
Vale stood in the yard wearing a black coat far too expensive for a bankrupt farmer.
Two men waited behind him.
Caleb recognized neither.
Eliza appeared behind him.
She went completely still.
“Silas.”
Vale smiled.
“Eliza.”
Caleb stepped outside.
Vale looked him over.
“You must be Mercer.”
“Yes.”
“Heard you took good care of my property.”
Caleb laughed once.
“Your property?”
Vale's smile remained.
“I have documents.”
“So do we.”
Vale's eyes moved toward Eliza.
“And how has our arrangement developed?”
Caleb felt Eliza tense.
“Careful,” he said.
Vale smiled wider.
“Touchy.”
Eliza stepped past Caleb.
“What do you want?”
Vale looked toward the farmhouse.
“Home.”
Nora and Claire appeared in the doorway.
Vale spread his hands.
“I've returned.”
Nobody answered.
His smile faded slightly.
“I assume everyone has had time to calm down.”
Claire spoke first.
“Leave.”
Vale looked genuinely surprised.
“Claire.”