Isabella’s eyes narrowed.
“I own a dairy ranch.”
“That is not an answer.”
She stepped closer.
“I gave your children food.”
“That is kindness.”
“Different.”
“Yes.”
“What exactly are you asking?”
Gabriel’s gaze dropped briefly to her lips.
Then returned.
“Nothing.”
She noticed.
“You do that.”
“What?”
“Look at my mouth when you are trying not to say something.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened.
Isabella moved closer.
Only a foot now.
“You asked whether marriage included my bed.”
“I said I wondered.”
“Still wondering?”
Gabriel’s voice became rougher.
“Yes.”
Her breathing changed.
He continued:
“But tonight you are afraid.”
Isabella’s expression hardened automatically.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I am not.”
“Rafael threatened your ranch.”
“Somebody entered your bedroom.”
“You married a stranger.”
“And now that stranger is standing beside your bed.”
Gabriel stepped back.
“You do not have to prove anything.”
Isabella stared.
He picked up a blanket from the chair.
“I'll sleep near Emma.”
“On the floor?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Gabriel frowned.
Isabella pointed toward the far side of the bed.
“That bed fits two adults.”
“I noticed.”
“Sleep there.”
“Isabella.”
“You said you would not touch me unless I wanted.”
“Yes.”
“I believe you.”
That mattered more than desire.
Gabriel nodded.
They lay on opposite sides.
Fully clothed.
A wide strip of mattress between them.
Emma slept in the cradle.
Outside, coyotes called from the hills.
For twenty minutes neither spoke.
Then Isabella whispered:
“Gabriel?”
“Yes?”
“Are you awake?”
“Yes.”
“Do you regret it?”
He knew exactly what she meant.
The marriage.
He thought about hunger.
Rafael.
Forgery.
Threats.
A stranger beside him.
Then Samuel sleeping safely down the hall.
Emma’s full stomach.
“No.”
Isabella’s voice softened.
“Neither do I.”
Silence.
Then:
“Gabriel?”
“Yes?”
“How long were you married?”
“Twelve years.”
“Did you love her?”
“Yes.”
The word came easily.
Painfully.
“Very much.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you still?”
Gabriel stared at the ceiling.
“Yes.”
He expected awkwardness.
Instead Isabella said:
“Good.”
He turned his head.
She was looking at him across the darkness.
“Good?”
“I would not trust a man who could stop loving his wife because she died.”
Something broke open inside him.
Gabriel closed his eyes.
“Isabella.”
“Yes?”
“You are making it difficult to sleep.”
She smiled faintly.
“I can be quiet.”
“That is not the problem.”
Her smile disappeared.
The distance between them suddenly felt smaller.
Neither moved.
Eventually Gabriel slept.
He woke before dawn.
Not from noise.
From instinct.
Something was wrong.
Emma still slept.
Isabella slept facing him, one hand beneath her cheek.
Gabriel listened.
A horse.
Outside.
Then another.
Too early for ranch work.
He rose quietly.
Boots.
Shirt.
Belt.
He moved toward the window.
Three figures near the south barn.
One carried a lantern covered with cloth.
Gabriel’s blood went cold.
He crossed the room.
Touched Isabella’s shoulder.
Her eyes opened instantly.
“What?”
“Men outside.”
She sat up.
“Rafael?”
“I don't know.”
Gabriel checked Emma.
Then whispered:
“Stay with the children.”
“No.”
“Isabella.”
“This is my ranch.”
“And they are my children.”
He looked at her.
“So we both have something to protect.”
She rose.
He almost argued.
Then stopped.
Partner.
Not possession.
“Fine.”
“Stay behind me.”
She stared.
“That is not partnership.”
“Tonight it is.”
She almost objected.
Then nodded.
Gabriel took an old shotgun from the hallway cabinet.
Not to fight.
To make presence known.
They moved downstairs.
Maria appeared near the kitchen with a lamp.
“I heard horses.”
“Wake no one yet,” Isabella said.
Gabriel looked through the rear window.
The men were near the records office.
One forced the door.
Isabella inhaled.
“Ledger.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“What?”
“Mateo’s ledger.”
“Still inside?”
“I moved it yesterday.”
“Where?”
She pointed upstairs.
Gabriel smiled faintly.
“Good.”
The men entered the office.
Minutes later they emerged.
One angry.
They had not found what they wanted.
The tallest figure turned toward the house.
Gabriel recognized the right-heel spur pattern as the man walked through dirt.
Tomás Ortega.
The missing night supervisor.
Gabriel whispered:
“That’s your man.”
Isabella’s face hardened.
Tomás approached the back steps.
Two others behind him.
Gabriel opened the door before they reached it.
Tomás froze.
“Señor?”
Gabriel stepped onto the porch.
“Morning.”
Tomás stared at him.
“Who are you?”
Gabriel smiled without humor.
“The husband.”
Tomás’s face changed.
Interesting.
News had traveled fast.
One of the men behind him began backing away.
Gabriel said:
“You looking for something?”
Tomás recovered.
“Cattle broke the south fence.”
“At four in the morning?”
“Yes.”
“Inside the records office?”
Tomás stopped.
Isabella stepped beside Gabriel.
“Tomás.”
His face went pale.
“Señora Navarro.”
“Morales.”
He stared.
She continued:
“You are dismissed.”
“Señora—”
“Leave.”
Tomás’s expression hardened.
“You don't understand.”
“I understand enough.”
“You cannot dismiss me.”
“Watch me.”
Tomás took a step forward.
Gabriel moved.
Only one step.
Tomás stopped.
Gabriel said:
“Her answer was clear.”
Tomás looked between them.
Then smiled.
“Rafael said this would happen.”
Isabella’s eyes narrowed.
“What?”
Tomás realized he had said too much.
Gabriel saw it.
“Rafael sent you.”
“No.”
“You just said his name.”
“Everyone knows.”
“Everyone knows what?”
Tomás backed away.
The other two men turned.
Gabriel raised his voice toward the bunkhouse.
“Wake up!”
Doors opened.
Workers emerged.
Tomás saw numbers shifting.
He cursed.
Then ran for the horses.
Nobody chased.
Gabriel did not want shooting.
Isabella did not either.
They rode away.
By sunrise, half the ranch knew.
Isabella stood in the office inspecting damage.
Desk drawers emptied.
Cabinet forced.
Gabriel crouched near the back door.
“They wanted paper.”
“Yes.”
“Not money.”
“No.”
“What exactly does Mateo’s ledger contain?”
“Payment dates.”
“Amounts.”
“Witness initials.”
“Rafael’s signatures on two receipts.”
Gabriel looked up sharply.
“Signatures.”
“Yes.”
“You said the release was gone.”
“The formal release.”
“But ledger shows payment.”
“And two small receipts are attached.”
Gabriel stood.
“Enough for court?”
“Maybe.”
“Enough for someone to want them gone?”
“Definitely.”
A rider approached the ranch at eight.
Not Rafael.