Amos’s breathing changed.
“For what?”
She smiled faintly.
“Coward.”
He laughed once.
Then one hand settled at her waist.
Carefully.
Clara remembered the first time he helped her from the ground.
The same hand.
Same restraint.
Different meaning.
“You sure?”
he asked.
Clara looked up.
“Yes.”
Amos lowered his head.
Stopped inches away.
Still waiting.
Clara pulled him down.
The kiss was warm.
Slow.
Then not slow.
Months of unsaid things finally found somewhere to go.
Clara pressed against him.
Amos held her firmly but never trapped.
His hand moved along her back.
Clara’s fingers slid into his hair.
When they separated, she was breathless.
Amos rested his forehead against hers.
“You okay?”
Clara laughed.
“If you ask whether I’m okay every thirty seconds, this may become difficult.”
He smiled.
“Noted.”
She kissed him again.
Nothing more happened that evening.
Not because neither wanted it.
Because baby Henry returned from Ruth’s ranch loudly demanding supper.
Ruth smiled when she brought him back.
Clara refused to discuss anything.
Amos developed a sudden fascination with boots.
Their courtship became public slowly.
Not because Clara felt shame.
Because she had only recently become her own person.
She wanted time.
Amos understood.
He continued living on his ranch.
Visited.
Helped.
Accepted help from her too.
That mattered.
Clara did not want another relationship in which one person saved and the other owed.
So she repaired his accounts.
Amos was terrible with numbers.
Clara discovered this and became delighted.
“You owe the feed store twelve dollars you already paid.”
“I thought so.”
“You have the receipt.”
“Good.”
“In a boot.”
“Safe place.”
“It smells like horse.”
“Discourages thieves.”
Clara stared.
Amos smiled.
She reorganized everything.
A month later Amos brought her a wooden desk.
Clara looked at it.
“What is this?”
“Payment.”
“For bookkeeping?”
“Yes.”
“This is worth more than the work.”
“Then continue another month.”
She smiled.
“Better trade.”
Winter arrived.
Clara’s body changed after pregnancy but remained enormous.
People in Silver Creek still stared.
Some whispered when Amos walked beside her.
He noticed.
Clara noticed him noticing.
One afternoon a man outside the general store laughed softly and said to a friend:
“Caldwell must need extra acreage.”
Amos stopped.
Clara caught his arm.
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“Clara.”
“No.”
The man saw them.
Went pale.
Clara looked at him.
“Finish your joke.”
He stammered.
“Nothing.”
“Exactly.”
She walked away.
Amos followed.
Outside town he said:
“I wanted to hit him.”
“I know.”
“You stopped me.”
“Yes.”