Adeline did not answer immediately.
Nathaniel watched the color drain from her face until he feared she might faint.
He wanted to reach for her.
Instead, he remained where he was.
Four feet separated them.
It felt like four miles.
“His name was Elias Ward,” she finally said.
Nathaniel said nothing.
“He was my fiancé.”
The word eased one fear and created ten others.
“Was?”
Adeline nodded.
“He’s dead.”
Nathaniel lowered his gaze.
The anger inside him did not disappear, but it changed shape.
“When?”
“Four months ago.”
Nathaniel calculated without wanting to.
“You were already carrying his child.”
“I didn’t know until after the funeral.”
Her voice cracked.
She turned away, wrapping both arms around herself.
Nathaniel had seen men lie.
He had seen cattle thieves swear innocence with stolen brands still smoking in their hands.
Adeline did not look like someone constructing a story.
She looked like someone reliving one.
Still, hurt remained.
“You could have written this.”
“I know.”
“You should have.”
“I know.”
Nathaniel exhaled sharply.
“Then why didn’t you?”
Adeline flinched.
He immediately hated himself for the harshness in his voice, but he did not take the question back.
She deserved kindness.
He deserved truth.
Adeline moved toward the window.
“Elias and I were supposed to marry in September. He worked with a freight company outside Laramie. He wasn’t wealthy, but we had plans. A small house. Maybe a shop someday.”
Her hand rested unconsciously over her abdomen.
“He left on a run in August. A wagon overturned in a ravine after a storm.”
Nathaniel’s jaw tightened.
“They brought him back three days later.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So was everyone. For about a week.”
Nathaniel heard bitterness now.
“What happened?”
“Elias’s father never approved of me. Gideon Ward owns two warehouses, a feed operation, and more property around Laramie than most people realize. He believed Elias should marry someone with money.”
“And Elias disagreed.”
“He usually did.”
For the first time, a tiny smile touched Adeline’s face.
It vanished immediately.
“After he died, Gideon told me I had no connection to the family. Legally, he was right. Elias and I weren’t married.”
“When did you discover the baby?”
“Three weeks later.”
Nathaniel closed his eyes briefly.
He could imagine the fear.
A single woman carrying the child of a dead man on the frontier did not receive much mercy.
“What did Ward say?”
“He said the child might not be Elias’s.”
Nathaniel looked sharply at her.
Adeline faced him.
“I had never been with another man.”
He believed her.
That surprised him.
Perhaps it should not have.
“What happened next?”
“My aunt allowed me to stay with her for a while. Then people started talking. Customers stopped visiting the dress shop where she worked. Someone painted a word on her door.”
Nathaniel did not ask which word.
He knew.
“So she sent you away.”
“She asked me to leave.”
“That’s a polite way of saying the same thing.”
“I didn’t blame her.”
“I do.”
Adeline looked at him.
Nathaniel immediately realized how quickly he had chosen a side.
He turned toward the fire.
“And that brought you to my advertisement?”
“Eventually.”
“Why mine?”
She hesitated.
The answer mattered.
Nathaniel could feel it.
“Because you told the truth.”
He looked back.
“About the doctor.”
“Yes.”
Nathaniel’s jaw hardened.
“So you thought a man who couldn’t have children would be desperate enough to accept another man’s?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
“No, Nathaniel.”
“Then explain it.”
Adeline stepped closer.
“I thought a man willing to put something that painful in a newspaper rather than deceive a woman deserved honesty from the woman who answered him.”
Nathaniel gave a humorless laugh.
“That’s a strange argument considering where we are.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“So you lied.”
“I withheld the truth.”
“That distinction probably matters more to the person doing it.”
Tears gathered in her eyes.
Nathaniel hated seeing them.
He hated more that he had reason to cause them.
“I wrote the truth three times,” she whispered.
“What?”
“I wrote three letters.”
Nathaniel frowned.
“In the first, I told you everything. Elias. The baby. My aunt. All of it.”
“What happened to it?”
“I burned it.”
“Why?”
“Because I imagined you reading the first paragraph and throwing it away.”
Nathaniel had no answer.
“In the second letter, I tried again. I wrote that there were circumstances I needed to explain.”
“And?”
“I burned that one too.”
“Then you sent the third.”
“Yes.”
“The one that mentioned none of this.”
“Yes.”
Nathaniel turned away.
Adeline’s voice broke behind him.
“I know what I did was wrong.”
The simple admission stopped him.
No excuse.
No attempt to turn blame onto him.
“I didn’t come here planning to trap you into marriage. That is why I’m telling you now. We haven’t married. You owe me nothing. If you want me to leave tomorrow, I will.”
Nathaniel stared at the flames.
Something inside him twisted painfully at the idea.
“You’re five months pregnant.”
“I know.”
“It’s winter.”
“I’ll find somewhere.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Nathaniel turned.
Adeline lifted her chin despite the tears running down her cheeks.
“I came here because I needed a chance. But needing one does not give me the right to steal yours.”
Nathaniel studied her.
Four days.
That was all.
Four days of coffee.
Laughter.
Another voice in the house.
He was already attached enough that the possibility of losing it hurt.
That angered him too.
“I need time.”
Adeline nodded.
“Of course.”
“You can stay.”
Her eyes widened.
“For now.”
“Nathaniel—”
“I’m not putting a pregnant woman on a stagecoach at night in January.”
“I don’t want charity.”
“Good, because I’m terrible at giving it.”
Despite everything, something almost like a laugh escaped her.
Nathaniel rubbed a hand across his face.
“You take the room. We continue as we have. We don’t marry until I know what I’m doing.”
Adeline looked at him as though he had offered more than a room.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t.”
Her face fell.
“I’m not forgiving you tonight.”
“I understand.”
“But I’m also not abandoning you tonight.”
That distinction mattered to him.
It seemed to matter to her even more.
Nathaniel slept little.
At dawn, he went to the barn before Adeline woke.
He worked until his shoulders hurt.
When anger rose, he lifted hay.
When confusion followed, he repaired tack that did not need repairing.
By midmorning, his neighbor Jacob Mercer rode over.
Jacob was fifty-two, widowed, and cursed with an instinct for noticing when something was wrong.
“You look like hell.”
“Morning to you too.”
Jacob climbed down.
“Heard the woman came.”
Nathaniel froze.
News traveled fast.
“She did.”
“Pretty?”
“Go home, Jacob.”
Jacob grinned.
“That pretty, huh?”
Nathaniel resumed tightening a strap.
Jacob leaned against a stall.
“When’s the wedding?”
“I don’t know.”
That got his attention.
“Trouble?”
Nathaniel looked toward the house.
Through the kitchen window, Adeline was moving around inside.
He could see only her silhouette.
“She’s carrying a child.”
Jacob blinked.
After several seconds he said, “Well.”
“Brilliant observation.”
“Not yours, I assume.”
Nathaniel’s stare answered.
Jacob removed his hat and scratched his head.
“You sending her away?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want her gone?”
Nathaniel hated how quickly the answer came.
“No.”
Jacob smiled faintly.
“That sounds inconvenient.”
Nathaniel threw the strap onto the workbench.
“She lied.”
“Yes.”
“I put the worst thing about myself in that advertisement.”
“Yes.”
“I gave her the chance to know exactly what kind of future I could offer.”
Jacob nodded.
“And she didn’t return the same courtesy.”
“No.”
“Then be angry.”
Nathaniel looked at him.
Jacob shrugged.
“Doesn’t mean you have to stop caring.”
“I’ve known her four days.”
“Your horse kicked you after six years. Time doesn’t guarantee anything.”
Nathaniel almost smiled.
Jacob became serious.
“You wanted a family.”
“I can’t have one.”
“That’s not what I said.”
Nathaniel stared at him.
Jacob replaced his hat.
“Think about it.”
Then he mounted and left.
Nathaniel remained in the barn.
He did think about it.
Far more than he wanted to.
That afternoon he found Adeline outside attempting to hang laundry.
“Absolutely not.”
She turned.
“What?”
“The wind will carry those sheets to Nebraska.”
“I was trying to help.”
“Help by keeping them indoors.”
Adeline gathered the linen.
Nathaniel watched her.
The pregnancy was more visible now that he knew.
How had he missed it?
Perhaps because he had seen what he wanted to see.
A possibility.
A wife.
A future uncomplicated by the thing he believed he could never provide.
“Does the baby move?”
The question escaped him.
Adeline stopped.
“Yes.”
Nathaniel wished he could retrieve the words.
Instead she stepped toward him.
“Mostly at night.”
He nodded.
“Is that normal?”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“I’ve never done this before.”
For the first time, Nathaniel truly considered what it meant.
She was alone.
Not merely pregnant.
Afraid.
Perhaps as unprepared as he was.
That evening, Adeline cooked stew.
Nathaniel set the table.
They spoke about ordinary things.
Weather.
A broken fence.
The mare’s leg.
It was awkward, but not unbearable.
Then someone pounded on the front door.
Nathaniel opened it to find Sheriff Amos Bell standing beneath the porch lantern.
“Evening, Nate.”
“Sheriff.”
Bell removed his hat.
“Sorry to come after dark.”
Nathaniel immediately sensed trouble.
“What happened?”
The sheriff glanced past him.
Adeline stood in the kitchen doorway.
Bell looked at her.
“Miss Foster?”
Adeline’s face turned white.
“Yes.”
“I received a telegram from Laramie this afternoon.”
Nathaniel stepped forward.
“About what?”
Bell’s expression was grim.
“A man named Gideon Ward is looking for her.”
Adeline’s fingers tightened around the doorframe.
Nathaniel felt something cold settle in his chest.
The sheriff continued.
“He says Miss Foster is carrying his late son’s child.”
Nathaniel slowly turned toward her.
Adeline looked terrified.
“And,” Bell added, “Mr. Ward claims that child belongs with his family.”
Nathaniel’s anger vanished.
Something more dangerous replaced it.
He stepped between Adeline and the open door.
“That child,” Nathaniel said quietly, “doesn’t belong to anybody.”
Sheriff Bell watched him carefully.
Nathaniel’s voice lowered.
“And if Gideon Ward wants to argue otherwise, he can come argue it with me.”
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