She continued.
“And do not decide for me because you think it is noble.”
He almost smiled.
Even furious, she knew him too well.
Samuel shook his head.
“If something happens to you…”
Clara stepped close.
“What?”
His voice lowered.
“I can live with dying.”
“I cannot live with being the reason you do.”
Her anger faltered.
She touched his coat.
“Then don’t die.”
Samuel laughed softly.
“Excellent strategy.”
Clara looked up.
“Samuel.”
“Yes?”
“I’m still angry.”
“I know.”
“I don’t know whether I trust you.”
“I know.”
“I don’t know what happens between us after this.”
Pain crossed his face.
He hid it badly.
“I know.”
Clara’s fingers tightened against his chest.
“But you came back because you promised.”
“Yes.”
“And you sent the ledger before they could recover it.”
“Yes.”
“And now you’re trying to keep them from this cabin.”
“Yes.”
She took a breath.
“I’m not done believing you can be better than what you were.”
Samuel closed his eyes briefly.
Those words almost broke him.
When he opened them, Clara stood inches away.
He touched her face.
“Then give me until tonight.”
“For what?”
“To earn tomorrow.”
She kissed him.
Not softly.
Not politely.
Fear, anger, longing, and all the unfinished questions between them poured into it.
Samuel’s hands settled at her waist.
Clara pressed against him.
When they separated, both breathed hard.
She rested her forehead against his chest.
“You had better come back.”
Samuel kissed her hair.
“I intend to.”
He rode toward Cottonwood Crossing.
Clara waited exactly twenty minutes.
Then saddled her mare.
Her father saw.
“Thought he told you to stay.”
“He did.”
“Going anyway?”
“Yes.”
Abraham smiled.
“Your mother.”
“What?”
“You’re exactly like her.”
Clara mounted.
“Is that good?”
“No.”
Then he smiled.
“Yes.”
Cottonwood Crossing lay twelve miles south.
Samuel arrived first.
The four riders were waiting.
Vale himself was not.
Samuel dismounted.
The red-bearded leader said:
“Ledger.”
“Gone.”
“You’re lying.”
“Probably.”
The man stepped closer.
“Where?”
“Helena.”
Silence.
The rider’s expression changed.
Samuel continued:
“Original reached a prosecutor.”
“Copy reached a newspaper.”
“If I die, story gets better.”
The red-bearded man smiled.
“You think newspapers save men?”
“No.”
“I think scandals make murder expensive.”
That answer unsettled them.
Then hoofbeats sounded.
Samuel turned.
Clara appeared over the rise.
His face changed from surprise to fury.
She approached.
Samuel walked toward her before she dismounted.
“What are you doing?”
“Disobeying.”
“I noticed.”
The riders laughed.