Elias's hands went cold despite the heat. His thoughts scrambled, unable to settle. He understood exactly what she meant. He struggled to believe the request was real. He swallowed hard.
"Why me?" His voice sounded rough from disuse. Nalina did not hesitate. "Because you live honest. Because you carry no cruelty. Because you stand alone, but you do not harm others." She looked at him with a mix of exhaustion and fragile hope.
"And because our elders trust a man who keeps his word." Elias felt a a pressure in his chest. He turned slightly, unable to hold her gaze. He did not see himself the way she described. To him, he was a man shaped by violence he could not erase. A man who lost too many people because he either arrived too late or acted too fast.
A man who avoided attachments so he would never repeat the same pain. He forced a breath through his lungs and tried to think clearly. He could not answer. Not now. Not when the weight of their expectation was so heavy that he could barely remain standing.
He felt fear, not of the women, but of the responsibility they placed at his feet. Of becoming tied to a future he did not believe he deserved. The widows seemed to sense his turmoil. None pushed him. No impatience.
No judgement. Only a quiet understanding. Nalaina lowered her head respectfully. "We do not ask for an answer today. Only that you think.
We believe you will choose with a clear heart." Elias nodded stiffly, but his hands trembled. He hoped they did not see. Lansa added softly, "We want a future for our people. Not out of desperation, out of duty, but we will not force this on you." Oyana placed a hand briefly over her own heart in thanks. The gesture was small, sincere.
The three women turned to leave, walking back toward the dimming horizon. Their silhouettes grew smaller as the sun dipped behind the ridge. Elias stood motionless at the gate long after they disappeared. His pulse remained unsteady. The request echoed in his mind, pulling up old fears he had buried under years of work and isolation.
Why him? What made them believe he could give anything worth having? As the sky shifted into deep blue, Elias finally stepped away from the fence and looked across the empty land. The ranch felt larger than usual, too quiet, too unoccupied. He understood something important.
The widows had not simply asked for children. They'd asked for a man who would stay. A man who would not disappear when life grew heavy. A man they believed he might be. And Elias, for the first time in years, did not know whether to walk back inside or walk toward the possibility that frightened him more than any gunfight ever had.