“Yes.”
“He lost his cattle the next drought.”
Ruth’s voice became cold.
“That was not bad luck.”
Jonah looked at her.
“No.”
Near noon, hoofbeats sounded outside.
Jonah stood.
Ruth gathered the papers instinctively.
He noticed.
“Leave them.”
“What?”
“If someone knows enough to come here, hiding them now changes nothing.”
She did not like the logic.
Still, she left them.
Jonah walked downstairs.
Ruth followed.
Three riders waited outside.
Two men in bank coats.
And Silas Harcourt.
The banker’s son.
Ruth stopped.
For months she had imagined what she would feel seeing him again.
Rage.
Love.
Shame.
Satisfaction.
Instead she felt tired.
Silas looked thinner.
His expensive coat hung loosely.
He removed his hat.
“Ruth.”
Jonah stepped between them.
Silas looked at him.
“I came to speak with my wife.”
Ruth’s voice sharpened.
“I am not your wife.”
Silas swallowed.
“I know.”
“Then choose nouns carefully.”
Jonah almost smiled.
Silas looked toward the ranch house.
“May I come inside?”
“No,” Ruth said.
Jonah said nothing.
This pleased her.
Silas nodded.
“My father knows you have the trunk.”
Ruth’s stomach tightened.
“How?”
“He always knew Daniel Holloway kept records.”
“Then why wait until now?”
Silas looked ashamed.
“Because he thought they were lost.”
“And now?”
“I told him.”
Ruth stared.
“You told him?”
“I didn’t know what was inside.”
“You knew enough to court me.”
His face changed.
Jonah became very still.
Ruth stepped closer.
“Was that why?”
Silas shook his head.
“At first.”
The answer struck harder than a lie would have.
Ruth laughed once.
“At first.”
“I was supposed to learn what Daniel left you.”
“Find out whether the trunk had documents.”
“Then?”
“I fell in love with you.”
Jonah’s hand curled into a fist.
Ruth saw it.
“Don’t.”
He looked at her.
She meant it.
This belonged to her.
Silas continued.
“My father found out I wanted to marry you.”
“He threatened to cut me off.”
“You disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“You let everyone say I had pursued you.”
His eyes lowered.
“Yes.”
“You let women spit near me.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You knew what your father was.”
“Yes.”
“Then you knew enough.”
Silas looked at her.
“I was a coward.”
Ruth felt something loosen.
Not forgiveness.
Clarity.
For months she had imagined there must have been a hidden explanation grand enough to make his abandonment understandable.
There was not.
He was afraid.
Simple.
Ordinary.
Painful.
“You were.”
Silas nodded.