Clara drew in a deep breath. “But they’re here.”
“So it appears.” He clenched the comb in his fist and dropped it to his side. “And it all makes sense now, what’s happening.”
“If you know who they are, you can tell Marshal Wright. At least now he’ll know who to search for.” A spark of hope lit inside of Clara. They had names! It was so much more than they’d had before.
“It won’t matter. They’re long gone by now. And when they return, they’ll be smart about it.” Roman’s face darkened.
“We’ll tell the town. Everyone likes you. Surely they’ll agree to help keep watch for them.”
“No one is going to sit up, night after night, unless I pay them.” He ran a hand over his face. “I’m done for, Clara, don’t you understand? It’s over.”
She stepped forward and grabbed hold of his hand, desperate for him to believe there was still hope. “It isn’t. This is what you’ve wanted, and Iknowyou, Roman. You’re strong enough to make it through this.”
He laughed, but the sound was empty. “I’m not. Not without money. Not without the promise this won’t happen again.” He let go of her hand and stepped away. “The sale of the wagon and a couple of the saddles ought to pay for your fare home.”
“My fare . . .” His words rang in her ears. “No, I don’t understand.”
“I can’t marry you.” He wouldn’t look at her.
Clara stepped around him, trying to catch his eye. Finally, he looked at her, but all she saw was the hollowed-out version of Roman. “Money doesn’t matter to me.”
“It should. You’re a fool if you believe otherwise.” His words were cold, and Clara bristled.
“You don’t believe that.”
Roman turned empty eyes toward her. “I do. Go back to the boardinghouse, Miss Brown. I’ll get the money tomorrow and you can be on your way.”
Clara pinched her lips together to keep them from trembling. He didn’t want her help. He didn’t even want her nearby. And now he was sending her away so he could . . . what?
She couldn’t stand there any longer with him looking at her in that way. Clara gathered her skirts and lifted her chin, willing herself not to shed a tear in his presence. But just before she turned, his stiff veneer cracked, and she saw, just for a millisecond, a sadness that sat behind it. But when she looked again, it was gone.
Had she imagined it? She didn’t know, but she certainly couldn’t stand here and let him push her away any longer. He’d decided he didn’t want her, and she needed to take that to heart and leave now.
Before he could hurt her more than he already had.
She’d return home and nurse her heartbreak there. At least she’d still have her dignity intact.
