“Yes.”
Margaret stood.
“So the entire thing was a trap.”
“No.”
“You knew my name.”
“Yes.”
“You knew where I lived?”
“No.”
“How did you find me?”
“I didn’t.”
She stared.
“The newspaper advertisement was broad.”
“Yes.”
“You hoped I would see it?”
“No.”
Margaret almost laughed.
“You expect me to believe coincidence?”
Elias stepped closer.
“Listen.”
“I spent six years searching county records for Eleanor Blackwood and a child named Margaret.”
“I found nothing after Missouri.”
“I did not know she became Eleanor Whitmore until three months before the advertisement.”
“How?”
“An old probate record.”
Margaret’s anger sharpened.
“So then you knew.”
“I knew a Margaret Whitmore existed.”
“Age matched.”
“Nothing else.”
“Then you advertised.”
“Yes.”
She stared.
“That is not coincidence.”
“No.”
Finally honesty.
He continued.
“I sent copies of the advertisement to newspapers in three counties where records suggested Whitmore relatives had lived.”
Margaret’s mouth fell open.
“You targeted me.”
“Yes.”
“Without telling me.”
“Yes.”
“That is manipulation.”
“Yes.”
He did not defend himself.
That made her angrier somehow.
Margaret paced toward the window.
Rain streaked the glass.
“You looked at me at the station like I disappointed you.”
Elias’s face tightened.
“I was ashamed of that before we left town.”
“Not enough to tell me.”
“No.”
“You let me work.”
“Yes.”
“Save your ranch.”
“Our ranch.”
Margaret turned.
“Do not.”
Elias went silent.
She pointed at him.
“You do not get to say ‘our’ now.”
He accepted it.
Margaret’s eyes burned.
“Were the letters real?”
“What?”
“The ones you wrote me.”
“Yes.”
“Every word?”
“Yes.”
“You told me the ranch house had been empty nine years.”
“True.”
“You said you wanted partnership.”
“True.”
“You said you respected my mind.”
“I did not write that until after your third letter.”
“Was it true?”
“Yes.”
She swallowed.
“The kiss?”
Elias’s expression changed.
Pain.
“That had nothing to do with land.”
“How do I know?”
“You don’t.”
That answer stopped her.
Elias continued.
“You should not trust me simply because I ask.”
“You should decide from what I do next.”
Margaret looked away.
He understood something important.
Words could not repair a deception made of words.
He stepped toward the door.
Margaret asked:
“Where are you going?”
“Bunkhouse.”
“You live here.”
“So do you.”
“This is your room.”
“This is your ranch.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Apparently.”
Elias stopped.
“The deed is in the box.”
“I never filed a challenge.”
“Never sold your interest.”
“Never hid the original.”
“I hid it from creditors who would have used the uncertainty against the ranch.”
Margaret stared.
“I will leave the office unlocked.”
“The house is yours tonight.”