The silence that followed was answer enough.
Clara’s stomach dropped.
“You knew.”
“Clara—”
“You knew about the railroad before you proposed.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Several months.”
She stood.
“You told me Boon wanted my land because of the railroad.”
“I did.”
“You did not tell me you knew before he started threatening me.”
Caleb looked up sharply.
“I didn’t know he was threatening you.”
“But you knew the land would become valuable.”
“Yes.”
“And then you married me.”
His expression hardened.
“Those two things have nothing to do with each other.”
“How am I supposed to know that?”
“Because I’m telling you.”
Clara laughed once, bitterly.
“That is exactly what Silas would say.”
Caleb stood so quickly that his chair scraped against the floor.
“I am not Silas Boon.”
“No.”
She looked directly at him.
“But I don’t know what you are.”
The words landed between them.
Caleb went still.
Clara regretted them immediately.
But neither apologized.
After a moment he walked from the house.
He did not return that night.
At dawn, Clara found a folded document beneath her coffee cup.
It was a deed.
Her deed.
Along with another document.
She read it twice before understanding.
Caleb had legally signed away any marital claim he might have had to Clara’s property.
Regardless of their marriage, regardless of the railroad, regardless of how valuable the land became, the forty acres belonged solely to her.
A note lay beneath it.
I should have told you everything before I asked you to trust me.
You deserved better than half the truth.
— Caleb
Clara closed her eyes.
When he returned that afternoon, mud on his boots and exhaustion beneath his eyes, she met him at the barn.
“I found the papers.”
He nodded.
“Why didn’t you show me before?”
“I should have.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
He removed his gloves slowly.
“Because I didn’t want you to think I expected gratitude.”
“You could have saved us both an argument.”
“Probably.”
Clara stepped closer.
“Why did you marry me?”
“To protect you.”
“That’s the answer you keep giving.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Not all of it.”
Caleb looked away.
Clara waited.
Finally he said, “The day I found you beside that broken wagon…”
His voice faded.
“What?”
“You reminded me what it sounded like when someone still believed tomorrow mattered.”
Clara said nothing.
Caleb gave a humorless smile.
“I’d forgotten.”
Her anger disappeared so quickly it frightened her.
“You could have told me that.”
“I’m not very good at telling people things.”
“I’ve noticed.”
