“I bought her a chance to walk away.”
The crowd murmured.
Pike's smile disappeared.
He looked at the girl.
“Get down.”
She hesitated.
Elias stepped closer to the wagon.
“It's all right.”
She looked at him for the first time.
Her eyes were green.
Not bright green.
The deep, tired green of pine trees after rain.
“What happens now?” she whispered.
Elias looked at Pike.
“Now she leaves.”
Pike laughed again.
“You think one dollar gives you the right to take her?”
Elias's hand moved slowly toward the rifle strapped across his back.
“No.”
The laughter stopped.
“One dollar gives me the right to tell you that I'm taking her.”
For several seconds, no one moved.
Then Pike reached for his pistol.
Elias was faster.
He didn't draw.
He simply pointed to Pike's hand.
“Don't.”
Something in his voice made Pike stop.
Elias turned toward the girl.
“Can you walk?”
She nodded.
“Then climb down.”
She moved carefully.
When her boots touched the ground, her knees almost gave way.
Elias caught her before she fell.
She stiffened.
He immediately released her.
“Sorry.”
She stared at him.
“No one has apologized to me today.”
Elias looked toward the road.
“Then today has been a poor day.”
For the first time, something changed in her expression.
Not happiness.
Not yet.
But perhaps the smallest possibility of it.
“My name is Clara,” she whispered.
Elias nodded.
“Elias.”
Pike shouted behind them.
“You're not walking out of here with her.”
Elias turned.
His eyes were cold.
“Watch me.”
Then he and Clara began walking.
Behind them, Pike Lathrop smiled.
Because he knew something Elias didn't.
The girl wasn't simply a helpless stranger.
And Pike hadn't brought her to Red Ford by accident.
The Woman Behind the Name
They walked nearly a mile before Clara stopped.
Elias turned.
“You all right?”
She nodded, but her face was pale.
“Where are we going?”
“My place.”
She immediately stiffened.
Elias noticed.
“You can stay in the barn if you prefer.”
She looked surprised.
“The barn?”
“It has a roof.”
“That isn't what I meant.”
“I know.”
He continued walking.
“My house is small. One room downstairs, one loft upstairs. There's a separate kitchen. You can have the bedroom.”
“And you?”
“The barn.”
She almost smiled.
“You're going to sleep in a barn because you paid one dollar?”
“I've slept in worse places.”
She studied him.
“Why did you do it?”
Elias kept walking.
“Because nobody else did.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“It is the only one I have.”
The road stretched ahead.
Red Ford disappeared behind them.
For the first time since morning, Clara allowed herself to breathe.
Elias's home stood on a patch of land surrounded by half-built fences.
A small cabin leaned slightly to the west.
There were tools beside the porch and stacks of timber near the barn.
“You live here alone?” Clara asked.
“Yes.”
“No wife?”
“No.”
“Children?”
“No.”
“Family?”
Elias paused.
“Not anymore.”
She didn't ask again.
Inside, the cabin was clean but plain.
A wooden table.
Two chairs.
A stove.
A bed.
A shelf filled with books.
Clara noticed the books first.
“You read?”
“Sometimes.”
“What?”
“Anything I can afford.”
She looked at him differently.
Elias found a clean shirt and placed it on the table.
“You can use this.”
Clara touched it.
“Thank you.”
“There’s water behind the cabin.”
She looked down at her torn dress.
“I can't go outside like this.”
Elias understood.
He turned away.
“You can wash inside. I'll wait outside.”
She hesitated.
“Elias.”
He looked back.
“Thank you.”
He nodded and stepped out.
An hour later, Clara emerged wearing his shirt and a pair of old trousers he had left outside the door.
Her hair was wet.
The blood had been washed from her face.
Without the dust and fear covering her features, Elias realized she was younger than he'd first thought.