Chapter 5 - The Clause Nobody Read
Nathan wanted Margaret inside the house.
Margaret refused.
“You are not locking me indoors because someone wrote seven words.”
“They threatened you.”
“That was probably the intention.”
“Yes. Threats generally intend to frighten people.”
“No. The intention was to frighten you.”
Nathan stopped.
Margaret held up the note.
“Whoever wrote this believes you'll stop changing the ranch to protect me.”
“I might.”
“Then they've already learned how to control you.”
Nathan hated that she was right.
Cyrus doubled the night watch.
Wade volunteered for the first shift.
The ranch kept changing.
The bank extension became official.
The eighteen breeding cows remained.
Margaret calculated projected calves.
For the first time, Nathan saw not merely cattle, but future years.
She had changed the way he looked at everything.
Then she changed something else.
She began sitting beside him at supper rather than opposite him.
Neither mentioned it.
One evening Nathan reached across the table and touched her hand.
Margaret froze.
He almost withdrew.
Then she turned her hand over.
Their fingers met.
No declaration.
No kiss.
Just warmth.
For Margaret, it was more frightening than the threatening note.
Because she knew how to survive losing land.
She wasn't sure she could survive loving someone again.
Three days later, Cyrus found evidence near North Creek.
Fresh shovel marks.
Someone had been digging around the old spring.
Nathan, Margaret, and Cyrus rode out.
The old retaining stones had been disturbed.
Cyrus crouched.
“This wasn't us.”
Margaret looked uphill.
“Why would someone care about an abandoned spring?”
Nathan's expression changed.
“Because if we restore it, we can expand grazing.”
Margaret nodded.
“And need less purchased feed.”
“Tillett.”
This time she agreed the motive fit.
But there was no proof.
They excavated the spring.
Water appeared by afternoon.
Clear.
Cold.
Cyrus stared at it like resurrection.
Margaret smiled.
“There's your North pasture.”
Cyrus shook his head.
“Your North pasture.”
“Our.”
The old man looked at her.
“Our,” he agreed.
That night they celebrated.
Pete played fiddle.
Wade danced badly.
Even Margaret laughed.
Nathan asked her to dance.
“I don't dance.”
“You salt beef, read contracts, diagnose bulls, fire cowboys, and find water. Surely dancing can't be worse.”
“It can if you're my partner.”
Nathan grinned.
She let him take her hand.
They moved slowly beneath lantern light.
Margaret was conscious of every eye.
Then gradually she wasn't.
Nathan's hand rested carefully at her waist.
“You're staring,” she murmured.
“At my wife.”
“You've had one for weeks.”
“I think I'm only beginning to notice.”
Margaret looked up.
The laughter around them blurred.
Nathan leaned closer.
A horse screamed.
The music stopped.
Everyone turned.
One of the corral gates stood open.
The breeding herd was moving.
Not wandering.
Running.
“Gate!” Cyrus shouted.
Men scattered.
Nathan released Margaret.
She saw something near the fence.
A flicker.
Orange.
“Fire!”
Dry grass ignited along the western edge.
Panic exploded.
Cattle stampeded.
Men grabbed blankets and shovels.
Margaret ran toward the water barrels.
The fire spread unnaturally fast.
Someone had laid a line of kerosene.
Sabotage.
Again.
Nathan and Cyrus drove cattle away from the flames.
Margaret organized a bucket line.
For two hours they fought.
By midnight, the fire was contained.
No cattle were lost.
One fence burned.
A small section of grass was destroyed.
Nathan returned blackened with soot.
Margaret's dress was filthy.
He grabbed her shoulders.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“You?”
“No.”
They stood inches apart.
Then Nathan pulled her into his arms.
Margaret stiffened.
Only for a moment.
Then she held him.
Hard.
Cyrus interrupted.
“You need to see this.”
Near the burned fence lay a broken glass bottle.
Kerosene.
Beside it was a leather glove.
Nathan recognized it.
“Tillett.”
Margaret looked at him.
“You're certain?”
“I saw him wearing these.”
Cyrus nodded.
“So did I.”
Nathan's face hardened.
“We go to the sheriff.”
At sunrise, they rode into town.
But Samuel Tillett wasn't home.
His stable was empty.
His wagon was gone.
So were his horses.
The sheriff searched his office.
In a drawer he found receipts.
Hay sales.
Loans.
Private agreements.
Then Margaret noticed one document tucked beneath them.
It was a copy of the Brooks mortgage.
Someone had written instructions across the bottom.
KEEP BROOKS SHORT OF CASH UNTIL FORECLOSURE.
Nathan stared at the handwriting.
“That's not Tillett's.”
Margaret's stomach tightened.
Nathan knew the handwriting.
So did Cyrus.
May you like
It belonged to the last person they expected.
The signature was from Nathan's bank.
