It was both irritating and strangely comforting.
Over the next two weeks, their arrangement slowly developed a rhythm.
Caleb worked outside.
Clara managed the house.
She also began helping with the ranch accounts.
That was when Caleb discovered another surprise.
She was extremely good with numbers.
One afternoon, she sat at the kitchen table surrounded by invoices.
"You've been overcharged."
Caleb looked up from repairing a saddle.
"By whom?"
"Thomas Bell."
"Bell Hardware?"
"Yes."
"He supplies half the ranchers in this county."
"Then half the ranchers in this county may be overpaying."
She held up an invoice.
"He charged you for forty fence posts."
"That's right."
"You received thirty-two."
Caleb frowned.
"You're sure?"
"I counted."
"Maybe they delivered the rest later."
"They didn't."
He walked to the table.
"How do you know?"
"Because the delivery receipt is dated six weeks ago."
Caleb stared at the paperwork.
"Eight posts."
"Eight."
"That's nearly twenty percent."
"Exactly."
He looked at her.
"How did you catch it?"
"I read."
"Most people read."
"Most people don't compare three documents at once."
Caleb smiled.
"You really are different."
Clara looked down.
"Different isn't always good."
He noticed something in her voice.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"Clara."
She folded the invoice.
"I've learned not to discuss family problems with strangers."
Caleb's expression softened.
"We're married."
"We're still strangers."
That was true.
And both knew it.
Meanwhile, the town of Red Hollow watched.
Everyone knew Caleb Morgan had taken a bride.
At the general store, people whispered.
At the church, women wondered.
At the saloon, men speculated.
The biggest gossip was Eleanor Voss, owner of the Red Hollow Mercantile.
She had known Caleb since childhood.
One afternoon, she visited the ranch.
Clara answered the door.
"Mrs. Voss."
"Eleanor."
"Come in."
Eleanor looked behind her.
"Is Caleb home?"
"He's repairing the south fence."
Eleanor stepped inside.
"So you're Clara."
"Yes."
"I've heard a lot about you."
Clara smiled politely.
"I imagine most of it isn't true."
Eleanor laughed.
"You're going to survive here."
"That is the plan."
Eleanor studied her.
Then her expression changed.
"Where did you get that?"
She pointed toward Clara's pendant.
Clara instinctively touched it.
"This?"
"Yes."
"It belonged to my father."
Eleanor's face became pale.
"Your father?"
"Jonathan Whitmore."
Eleanor took a step backward.
"What?"
Clara frowned.
"Is something wrong?"
"No."
But Eleanor's voice had changed.
She stared at the pendant.
A small silver crescent.
With an engraved letter M.
Then she whispered:
"That's impossible."
Clara's eyes narrowed.
"What is?"
Eleanor looked toward the window.
"Nothing."
But it wasn't nothing.
That night, Eleanor rode straight to the house of Silas Blackwell.
Silas was seventy-one.
He owned more land than anyone in Red Hollow except Caleb.
He also hated Morgan Ranch.
For nearly twenty years, he had been waiting for a chance to take it.
When Eleanor told him about the pendant, Silas went silent.
"You're certain?"
"I saw it."
"The crescent?"
"With the M."
Silas stood slowly.
"Then she's here."
"Who?"
"Jonathan Whitmore's daughter."
Eleanor swallowed.
"What does that mean?"
Silas looked toward the dark window.
"It means the past has finally come home."
The Man Who Wanted the Ranch
Caleb first realized there was trouble when he found three dead cattle near the northern fence.
They had been shot.
Not by accident.
Not by a hunter.
Someone had deliberately killed them.
Caleb dismounted.
He examined the ground.
Horse tracks.
Two riders.
Maybe three.
The wind had erased most of the evidence.
But one boot print remained.
Deep.
Distinct.
Caleb crouched.
The heel had a triangular cut.
He knew that pattern.
Silas Blackwell's ranch hands wore boots with that distinctive heel.
Caleb rode home before noon.
Clara was outside hanging laundry.
"Three cattle are dead."
Her face tightened.
"How?"
"Shot."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"Silas?"
"Maybe."
She lowered the clothespin.
"Who's Silas?"
Caleb looked at her.
"You've never heard of him?"
"No."
"He owns the Blackwell property."
"Why would he kill your cattle?"
"Because he's wanted this land for twenty years."
Clara looked toward the hills.
"Why?"
Caleb hesitated.
"My father and Silas had a dispute."
"What kind?"
"I was young."
"That isn't an answer."
He sighed.
"Land."
"That's all?"
"As far as I know."
Clara looked at him.
"You're lying."
Caleb stiffened.
"I don't lie to my wife."
"You just did."
He walked toward the barn.
She followed.
"Caleb."
He stopped.
"There are things about this ranch you haven't told me."
"There are things about your family you haven't told me."
She froze.
He turned.
"Fair?"
Clara looked away.
"Fair."
That night, Caleb found a letter nailed to the barn door.
There were only six words.
LEAVE BEFORE YOU LOSE EVERYTHING.
He showed it to Clara.
She read it twice.
Then she touched her pendant.
Caleb noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You know something."
"I might."
"Clara."
She closed her eyes.
"My father worked for your father."
Caleb stared.
"What?"
"Twenty years ago."
"My father never mentioned him."
"Perhaps he didn't want to."
"What did he do?"