Edith lowered her eyes.
She did not know how to answer kindness that asked nothing in return.
Outside, the wind moved through the cottonwoods.
The ranch was beginning to feel like home.
And that was precisely when trouble arrived.
The first warning came in the form of a letter.
It arrived on a Thursday morning, carried by a boy from town. The envelope was addressed to Coulter Grady in an unfamiliar hand.
He opened it at the kitchen table.
Edith was kneading dough when she noticed his expression.
"What is it?"
Coulter read the letter again.
"Nothing you need to worry about."
She stopped kneading.
"That means something is wrong."
He folded the paper.
"The bank is demanding payment on the ranch mortgage."
Edith wiped her hands.
"When?"
"Within sixty days."
She stared at him.
"Sixty days?"
He nodded.
"How much?"
He told her.
Edith felt the blood drain from her face.
It was an enormous sum.
"Can you pay it?"
"Not without selling part of the herd."
"Then sell part of the herd."
Coulter shook his head.
"The herd is already smaller than it should be. If I sell now, there won't be enough cattle to sustain the ranch next year."
She looked toward the window.
The pastures stretched beneath the morning light.
"What happens if you don't pay?"
"The bank takes the property."
Edith set the dough aside.
For the first time since arriving, she understood that the ranch was not simply struggling.
It was in danger of disappearing.
And with it, the only home she had found in years.