Sarah reached Garrett before Penny did.
He had fallen hard onto one knee, then braced himself against the foyer table before his strength gave out completely.
Cole caught one arm.
Sarah took the other.
“Get him near the fire.”
“I can walk,” Garrett muttered.
“You’re doing a poor job of proving it.”
His eyes shifted toward Sarah.
Even half-conscious, he seemed offended.
Good.
Offended men were usually still alive.
Together Sarah and Cole dragged him into the parlor.
Mr. Finch hurried behind them carrying blankets.
Penny stood near the doorway barefoot in her nightgown, her hands pressed against her mouth.
Sarah had never seen her daughter so frightened.
“What happened?” Finch asked.
“North ridge,” Cole replied. “Garrett’s horse stepped into drift-covered washout. Went down sideways. He caught his head on a rock.”
“Doctor?”
“No chance of getting to town tonight.”
Sarah knelt beside Garrett.
Blood darkened his hair above his right temple.
She pulled a clean cloth from Finch.
“Boil water.”
Finch nodded.
“Cole, get dry clothes and more blankets.”
Garrett tried sitting up.
Sarah put a hand against his chest.
“Don’t.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding on a rug that probably costs more than my old cabin.”
He blinked at her.
“Then perhaps I should move.”
Sarah nearly laughed despite herself.
“Lie still.”
Penny crept closer.
“Is he dead?”
Garrett’s eyes opened.
“No.”
Penny’s face crumpled.
Garrett frowned.
“Why are you crying?”
“You got dead.”
“I specifically said I did not.”
“You look dead.”
“Apparently death has lowered its standards.”
Penny ran toward him.
Sarah barely stopped her from throwing herself onto his injured shoulder.
“Careful.”
Penny knelt beside him instead.
Garrett looked at her.
The child touched two fingers gently to his sleeve.
“You came back.”
The words changed the room.
Garrett’s face went still.
Sarah knew Penny wasn’t only speaking about the blizzard.
Children carried old fears in simple sentences.
Thomas had left their house one evening while sick.
He had returned weaker.
Then one morning he had not awakened.
For Penny, every departure contained the possibility of disappearance.
Garrett seemed to understand.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I came back.”
Penny nodded.
“Good.”
She remained beside him until Sarah carried her upstairs.
The storm trapped everyone inside for two days.
Garrett developed a fever the first night.
Not dangerously high, but enough to keep Sarah worried.
She changed the bandage on his head every few hours.
Garrett hated being cared for.
That became obvious quickly.
“I can drink water without assistance.”
“Wonderful.”
“Then give me the glass.”
“You dropped it last time.”
“That was because you distracted me.”
“I asked whether you were dizzy.”
“Exactly.”
Sarah handed him the glass anyway.
Garrett drank.
“Happy?”
“Deeply.”
He glared at her.
Sarah changed the compress.
By the following afternoon, the fever eased.
Penny was permitted into the room for five minutes.
She entered carrying the wooden cow Garrett had secretly left outside their room weeks earlier.
Sarah finally knew it had been him because Penny placed it on his blanket.
“You need him.”
Garrett picked up the carving.
“For what?”
“He protects people.”
“From?”
“Bad snow.”
Garrett studied her.
“You seem remarkably confident about his qualifications.”
“He’s brave.”
“So are you.”
Penny shook her head.
“I cried.”
“Brave people cry.”
That stopped her.
Garrett looked toward the small wooden animal.
“Being brave doesn’t mean you’re never frightened.”
Penny climbed carefully onto the edge of the mattress.
Sarah watched from the doorway.
Garrett continued.
“It means you do what needs doing while you’re frightened.”
Penny thought about that.
“Like Mama?”
Garrett’s eyes moved toward Sarah.
“Yes.”
Something in the way he said it made Sarah look away.
Garrett recovered.
But something fundamental had shifted.
He started coming into the kitchen for coffee instead of having it brought to his study.
He began eating evening meals with the ranch hands during bad weather.
And one morning Sarah discovered Penny sitting beside him in the study.
Garrett was working through cattle accounts.
Penny had a scrap of paper.
“What is happening here?”
Garrett did not look up.
“Your daughter informed me she is assisting.”
Penny nodded.
“I do numbers.”
Sarah examined the paper.
There were seventeen circles, a badly drawn horse, and what appeared to be a potato.
“Excellent accounting.”
“Thank you.”
Garrett’s mouth lifted.
That smile no longer startled Sarah as much.
What did frighten her was how much she had begun looking for it.
February brought a different problem.
Thomas Miller’s debts had not disappeared.
A man named Wesley Boone arrived from town one Saturday afternoon.
Sarah recognized him immediately.
He had purchased several of Thomas’s notes after his death.
Boone was thin, neat, and always smelled faintly of peppermint.
Sarah disliked him.
“Mrs. Miller.”
“Mr. Boone.”
He removed his hat but did not smile.
“May we speak privately?”
Sarah led him toward the kitchen.
Garrett’s study door stood open across the hall.
She lowered her voice.
“What is it?”
“The cabin.”
Sarah’s stomach tightened.
“What about it?”
“Payment remains overdue.”
“I told you I would make a payment at the end of this month.”
“The terms have changed.”
“You can’t change them.”
“I purchased the debt.”
“You purchased Thomas’s note.”
“And the collateral attached to it.”
Sarah stared at him.
“The cabin is worth twice what we owe.”
“Perhaps.”
Boone smiled.
“I have a buyer.”
Sarah felt heat rise through her chest.
“You want to take it.”
“I want payment.”
“You know I’m working now.”
“I know.”
His eyes traveled down her clean housekeeper’s dress.
“You appear to have improved your circumstances.”
Sarah’s hands curled.
“How much?”
“With accumulated interest, seventy-eight dollars.”
“That isn’t possible.”
“It is written plainly.”
“Thomas owed forty-one.”
“Interest. Collection expenses. Legal preparation.”
“You’re stealing.”
Boone’s smile vanished.
“Careful.”
A voice came from the hallway.
“She was being careful.”
Garrett stood outside the kitchen.
Boone stiffened.
“Mr. Thorne.”
Garrett walked closer.
“How much did you say she owes?”
“This is a private matter.”
“Then you should not have conducted it in my kitchen.”
Boone looked uncomfortable.
Sarah stepped between them.
“I can handle this.”
Garrett’s gaze moved to her.
“I know.”
Those two words mattered.
Not I’ll handle it.
Not stand aside.
I know.
He respected her enough not to take control.
Garrett faced Boone again.
“But if a creditor enters my property and attempts intimidation, it becomes my concern.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Good.”
Garrett opened the kitchen door.
“Then your conversation is finished.”
Boone left.
Sarah waited until the front door closed.
Then she turned.
“You didn’t need to interfere.”
“No.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
Garrett returned toward his study.
Sarah followed.
“Why did you?”
He stopped.
“Because he was enjoying frightening you.”
“I wasn’t frightened.”
“You were.”
Sarah’s pride flared.
Garrett lowered his voice.
“Being frightened is not the same as being weak.”
She remembered what he had told Penny.
Sarah exhaled.
“I don’t want charity.”
“I didn’t offer any.”
“If you were thinking of paying that debt—”
“I wasn’t.”
“Good.”
Garrett’s eyes flickered.
“I was thinking of having my attorney inspect it.”
Sarah stared at him.
“That is different.”
“How?”
“He can determine whether Boone’s charges are lawful. You can pay whatever is actually owed yourself.”
Sarah considered it.
“Why would your attorney help me?”
“Because I pay him an unreasonable amount of money.”
Despite herself, Sarah smiled.
“All right.”
The attorney found exactly what Sarah suspected.
Boone had added illegal fees.
The actual balance was forty-three dollars and sixty cents.
Sarah paid ten dollars immediately and arranged the rest over three months.
It should have ended there.
Instead, Boone became angry.
Men like Wesley Boone disliked losing even more than they liked money.
Two weeks later, rumors began circulating through Laramie.
Sarah heard them when she went into town for flour and medicine.
The merchant’s wife avoided her eyes.
Two women whispered near the fabric counter.
Sarah caught three words.
Widow.
Thorne.
Convenient.
She understood immediately.
By the time she returned to the ranch, shame burned hotter than anger.
She carried supplies into the pantry.
Garrett appeared in the doorway.
“You were gone longer than expected.”
“The road was muddy.”
He studied her.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Sarah.”
She turned sharply.
“You don’t get to say my name that way and expect the truth to fall out.”
His eyebrows rose.
“What way?”
“Like an order.”
Something almost amused entered his face.
“Very well. Would you care to tell me what happened?”
“No.”
She turned toward the shelves.
Garrett remained.
Finally Sarah sighed.
“People are talking.”
“People generally do.”
“About us.”
Garrett became still.
“There is no us.”
The words hurt more than they should have.
Sarah concentrated on a flour sack.
“I know.”
Garrett heard it too.
The unintended cruelty.
He stepped closer.
“That was not what I meant.”
“You meant there’s nothing improper happening.”
“Yes.”
“Then we agree.”
She began arranging supplies.
Garrett watched her.
“What exactly are they saying?”
“That I found a clever way to improve my life.”
His jaw tightened.
“That you’re paying me for more than housekeeping.”
Silence.
Then Garrett said, “Who?”
Sarah turned.
“No.”
“Who said it?”
“I’m not giving you names.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t need the most powerful rancher in Albany County stomping into town defending my honor.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Stomping?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t stomp.”
“You absolutely stomp.”
Garrett looked offended.
Sarah laughed.
He stared at her.
Then, slowly, he smiled.
Not almost.
Not briefly.
A complete smile.
It transformed him.
Sarah forgot what she had been saying.
Garrett seemed to realize it and looked away.
The moment became something else.
Too quiet.
Too aware.
Sarah’s heart beat faster.
From the hallway came Penny’s voice.
“Mama!”
Sarah stepped back instantly.
Penny ran into the pantry holding a broken doll.
“Her arm fell off.”
Garrett looked down at the doll.
“That appears serious.”
“She needs doctor.”
Sarah took the doll.
“I’ll sew it.”
Penny shook her head.
“Mr. Thorny fix it.”
Garrett frowned.
“Why me?”
“You got hurt and got fixed.”
Sarah bit her lip.
Garrett accepted the doll.
“All right.”
Penny beamed.
That evening, Garrett repaired the doll with wire, glue, and more concentration than most men brought to negotiating cattle contracts.
Sarah watched from across the kitchen.
He did not notice.
Or perhaps he did.
Neither of them mentioned it.
Outside, winter was slowly giving way to spring.
Inside Thorne Ranch, something frozen was beginning to thaw.
And Sarah knew enough about Wyoming weather to understand that thawing ice could either make the ground fertile—
or flood everything in its path.