The envelope fluttered onto the flour-dusted surface.
She flinched. “I…I believed—” But she hadn’t.
He cocked his eyebrows. “You didn’t put the leather case back the right way under my mattress.” His voice hardened like granite. “Did you read my journals?”
“No, I swear to you. I didn’t. I figured they were private.”
He crossed his arms. “Private. I’m not sure you even know what that word means. But in a way, it’s probably too bad you didn’t take a peek. Maybe it would have taught you a new word. Mercy.”
She hugged herself and closed her eyes. “I am sorry. I?—”
He cleared his throat. “I’ve already spoken with Mr. Franklin. He’s agreed to stay here full-time and help out at least through the fall.”
The fall? Of course, he’d be gone that long. “Thank you. But I…we can’t afford?—”
“I’ll send the money.”
Her lips moved. “I wouldn’t want?—”
“I said I’m paying him.” He hooked his thumbs in his gun belt. “When Goodnight returns, he’ll send or bring you the money for however many of our longhorns make it to New Mexico. But that might not be until spring. I’ll send extra funds before then in case.” His eyes narrowed as if daring her to object.
Spring? The length of his absence had gone from fall to spring in a matter of sentences. Was she daft? He didn’t plan to return.
She picked up the envelope and held it to her chest without reading it. “I’m so sorry about your father.”
“I’ll send you word of what happens.” His expression said her sympathies meant about as much to him as Jeff Davis apologizing for the rebellion.
“I’ll…be seeing you before you go?” Why wouldn’t her voice cooperate? It made her sound like she was Charlie’s age or younger.
“Not likely.” He jutted his chin. “I’ll have to pack up tonight after we return. Probably take my meal in the loft. Then I’m heading out before sunup. I want to be there in plenty of time for the stage.”
She glared at him, half tempted to throw the envelope at him. “You’re not even going to say a proper goodbye? After everything between us?”
He snorted. “I figure a woman who doesn’t trust me would be relieved by my absence. That way, she wouldn’t have to spend her life second-guessing me, forever wondering when I was going to slip up and transform into her father.” But his voice wavered, too, as if it were a flag flipped about by a strong wind.
She stomped over to him, her shawl falling off her shoulders and slipping to the floor. “Regardless of what you think, I love you. I want to see you succeed…”
“But?” He glared at her.
But I don’t know if I can marry you.
The parlor clock chimed six times.
The slight crinkles around his eyes aged him a decade in a minute. “Your silence says more than enough, Cora.” He pushed past her and grabbed the haversack. “A man can’t marry a woman who doesn’t respect or trust him.”
“I trust you.”
He smirked. “To be an errand boy? Or a trail hand?”
“The ranch is half yours.” What kind of stupid reply was that, totally missing his point?
He shouldered the haversack. “Speaking of the ranch, I plan to stop by the land office and sign over any claim I have to you. It’ll be yours to do with as you please.”
Another part of their connection severed.
She sucked in a breath. She would not cry. “I don’t care what the deed says. Half is yours. It’ll be here when you want it.”
He strode right up to her bare toes. “I’ll want it when I see the doubt gone from your eyes. Replaced by respect and trust. Until then, you’ll have my provision as often as I can send it.”
