She followed him with her eyes.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying you can stay here until you figure out where you're going."
Her expression hardened.
"I can't pay you."
Thomas stopped.
"I didn't ask you to."
"I have no money."
"I didn't ask for money."
"I can work."
Thomas looked at her hands.
They were blistered.
Her left wrist was bruised.
"You can rest."
She stared at him as if he had spoken in a language she did not understand.
"Why?"
Thomas shrugged.
"Because you needed water."
He returned to his fence.
The woman remained beside the trough.
For the first time in many miles, she was somewhere no one had demanded anything from her.
She did not know it yet.
But that small kindness was about to change Thomas Hale's life forever.
A Woman Named Clara
By noon, the woman's horse was inside Thomas's corral.
Thomas had given the animal oats and a small amount of grain.
The woman sat beneath the mesquite tree.
Boone lay nearby.
Thomas worked without asking questions.
That seemed to make her nervous.
Finally she said, "My name is Clara."
Thomas looked up.
"Clara what?"
She hesitated.
"Clara Whitmore."
Thomas nodded.
"I'm Thomas Hale."
"I know."
He smiled faintly.
"You've heard of me?"
"No."
That answer surprised him.
"Then how do you know?"
She pointed toward the mailbox.
Thomas looked.
A letter was hanging from it.
His name was written across the front.
Thomas walked over and picked it up.
The seal had been broken.
His expression changed.
"Who opened my mail?"
Clara looked away.
"I did."
Thomas stared at her.
"I was looking for a place called Hale Ranch."
"You found it."
"The letter was from your name."
Thomas opened it.
Inside was a single sheet.
His brother's handwriting.
Samuel.
Thomas had not seen his brother in nine years.
The letter contained only a few lines.
Thomas,
If this reaches you, I am asking you for something I have no right to ask.
My daughter Clara is coming west.
She has nowhere else to go.
Please help her.
Samuel.
Thomas read it twice.
Then he looked at Clara.
"You're Samuel's daughter."
She nodded.
"I didn't know you were coming."
"My father died three months ago."
Thomas lowered the letter.
"I'm sorry."
Clara looked at the ground.
"He left debts."
Thomas said nothing.
"People came to the house."
Her voice trembled.
"They wanted money."
Thomas folded the letter.
"How did you get here?"
"I sold almost everything."
"Almost?"
"My father's horse."
Thomas glanced toward the corral.
"The chestnut?"
She nodded.
"That horse belonged to him."
Thomas understood.
She had sold her own transportation and somehow bought another horse or borrowed one simply to reach him.
"What happened to the money?"
Clara's face became pale.
"I was robbed."
Thomas waited.
"Two men."
"Where?"
"South of Red Mesa."
"Were you hurt?"
"No."
That was another lie.
Thomas had seen the bruise.
He did not press.
"You can stay here."
Clara looked up.
"For how long?"
"Until you decide."
"And what do you want in return?"
Thomas shook his head.
"Nothing."
She studied him.
"No man gives something for nothing."
Thomas smiled sadly.
"Maybe you've met the wrong men."
She looked away.
Neither knew that three miles behind her, two riders were following her trail.
And they were not looking for Clara because they cared about her.
They wanted the papers she carried.
Papers that could change who owned one of the richest water sources in southern Arizona.
The Empty Pantry
Clara stayed.
For the first two days, she slept almost fourteen hours.
Thomas did not mention it.
He gave her the small bedroom.
He slept on the porch.
On the third morning, Clara woke before sunrise.
She found Thomas in the kitchen preparing coffee.
"You sleep outside?"
"Sometimes."
"Why?"
"House gets warm."
Clara looked at him.
"You gave me your room."
"You needed it."
"You sleep outside because of me."
Thomas poured coffee.
"Doesn't bother me."
Clara stared at the table.
The ranch was strangely peaceful.
There was no arguing.
No shouting.
No drunken footsteps.
No man demanding obedience.
Only Boone snoring beneath the table and Copper stamping his hoof in the corral.
Clara had grown up believing men always wanted something.
Her father had been kind once.
Then debts had changed him.
After her mother died, Samuel had become bitter.
He loved Clara.
But love had not saved their farm.