No condition.
No marriage.
No continued employment.
The woman stared.
“What is this?”
“Yours.”
“Why?”
“So if you stay, you’re not staying because you have nowhere else.”
She could barely breathe.
He continued.
“There’s an old cabin foundation there.”
“Not much.”
“But enough to build.”
“Daniel.”
He used her name rarely.
Now she used his.
The intimacy of it was sharper than a kiss.
He continued:
“If you want your own place, I’ll build it.”
“If you want to work here and live there, fine.”
“If you want to leave Raven Creek completely, sell the parcel.”
“It’s yours.”
Tears blurred the writing.
She whispered:
“You’re giving me land so I’m free to leave you.”
“Yes.”
“That may be the stupidest courtship method in Montana.”
“I wasn’t courting.”
“You absolutely were.”
His ears reddened.
She laughed through tears.
Then looked toward the southern rise.
“What would you build?”
He stared.
“What?”
“My house.”
The rancher slowly smiled.
“What do you want?”
She had never been asked that.
Not what could she afford.
Not what suited her station.
What did she want?
She thought.
“A kitchen with two windows.”
“Why two?”
“Morning light and evening light.”
He nodded.
“A pantry I can turn around in.”
“Reasonable.”
“Wide stairs.”
“Yes.”
“A bedroom facing west.”
“Mountains?”
“Sunset.”
He nodded again.
“A porch deep enough for chairs.”
“How many?”
She looked at him.
“At least two.”
His gaze warmed.
She continued.
“A workroom.”
“For accounts?”
“Sewing.”
“Both.”
“And a table.”
“Big?”
“Very.”
He smiled.
“For eight?”
She looked toward Raven Creek’s big house.
“For however many show up.”
The rancher’s voice softened.
“I can build that.”
The woman stared at the deed.
Then at him.
“What if I don’t want a separate house?”
He stopped breathing.
“What?”
She stepped closer.
“What if the house I want is already built?”
The rancher did not move.
She could see him refusing to assume.
Refusing to hear more than she actually said.
It made her love him.
The realization came calmly.
Love.
Not rescue.
Not gratitude.
Not employment.
Love.
She touched the front of his coat.
“I want the kitchen with the cinnamon tin.”
His eyes softened.
“I want the table.”
“The windows.”