Silas found the first cow half a mile from the house.
Then seven more.
They had been driven rather than scattered.
Hoofprints cut through the snow in a narrow trail toward the south ravine.
Silas's suspicion hardened into certainty.
Someone had opened the gate.
Someone had deliberately driven the herd into the storm.
He followed.
Snow blinded him.
His scarf froze against his beard.
Twice his horse stumbled.
The tracks led toward an abandoned line shack near Gideon Pike's southern property.
Silas dismounted before approaching.
A voice carried through the wind.
"Keep them moving!"
Silas crouched behind a drift.
Three riders.
He recognized one immediately.
Clay Mercer.
Gideon's foreman.
Silas stepped into view with his rifle.
"That's far enough."
Clay jerked around.
The other two men reached for weapons.
Silas aimed.
"I wouldn't."
Clay laughed.
"Thorne."
"Open the herd back toward my land."
"Your land?"
Clay grinned.
"Last I heard, you arrived without a nickel."
Silas's eyes narrowed.
"Funny thing about family. What belongs to one of us matters to all of us."
One rider spat into the snow.
"Sentimental fool."
Silas tightened his grip.
"Move the cattle."
Clay's hand drifted toward his revolver.
A gunshot cracked.
Silas dropped behind a snowbank.
The bullet passed where his head had been.
He fired toward the sky.
The cattle panicked.
Clay cursed.
The men scattered.
Silas mounted and drove toward the herd, trying to turn the lead animals.
Another shot.
His horse screamed.
Silas was thrown.
He struck frozen ground hard enough to lose his breath.
The horse collapsed, wounded in the shoulder.
Silas crawled toward cover.
Clay rode closer.
"This is where a starving drifter should've stayed gone."
Silas reached for his rifle.
It lay ten feet away.
Clay raised his revolver.
Then a second rifle cracked from behind Silas.
Clay's hat flew off.
Everyone froze.
Clara sat astride Amos Bell's mare twenty yards away.
Snow covered her blue coat.
Her rifle was aimed directly at Clay.
"Next one," she shouted, "will be lower."
Silas stared.
"What are you doing here?"
"Saving my husband."
"This is not a good time to argue!"
"I disagree."
Behind Clara came Amos, Jonah Pierce, and Deputy Cobb.
Clay's confidence disappeared.
Deputy Cobb raised his revolver.
"Hands where I can see them!"
The two hired riders surrendered.
Clay hesitated.
Clara cocked the rifle.
He slowly lifted both hands.
Silas stood painfully.
"You followed me?"
Clara dismounted.
"You were gone two hours and eleven minutes."
"I told you—"
"Silas."
She threw her arms around him.
He stopped speaking.
The cattle were driven home by afternoon.
Silas's horse survived, though it would never work hard again.
Clay Mercer spent the night in the same cell Silas had occupied months earlier.
By morning, he was talking.
Gideon had paid him to ruin the Higgins-Thorne ranch.
Cut fences.
Poison salt.
Release cattle.
Nothing was supposed to be directly traceable.
The blizzard had been his final move.
If the herd died, Clara and Silas would default on spring payments and Gideon could acquire the ranch cheaply.
There was one problem.
Clay's word alone was not enough.
Gideon denied everything.
"Disgruntled employee," he told Sheriff Dalton.
But the town had begun changing.
People who once repeated Gideon's rumors now wondered how many other ranches had suffered convenient disasters before he acquired them.
Henry Latham came forward.
Then another former owner.
Then another.
Stories accumulated.
Missing documents.
Sudden debts.
Destroyed fences.
Contaminated wells.
Cattle disappearing before foreclosure.
Clara gathered every statement.
Silas traveled with Sheriff Dalton to the county seat.
The investigation grew.
For the first time, Gideon Pike looked frightened.
Winter continued.
The storm that nearly destroyed the Thorne ranch became one of the harshest of the season.
But their preparations worked.
The sod shelter protected livestock.
The hay lasted.
Their smaller, carefully selected herd survived.
Other ranches suffered losses.
Clara and Silas shared feed with Amos Bell.
They took in twelve cattle belonging to a young couple whose barn collapsed.
Silas repaired the roof of an elderly widow's house without charge.
Clara organized food supplies for families cut off by snow.
Dry Creek remembered.
The drifter people called a fortune hunter was risking his life to protect neighbors who had mocked him.
The widow they had called cold was feeding children from her own winter stores.
And May?
May became the unofficial queen of Dry Creek.
She carried biscuits to elderly neighbors.
She told everyone her papa was "the strongest man in Wyoming, except Mama Clara when she's angry."
Even Sheriff Dalton agreed.
By February, the accusations against Silas had become a source of embarrassment.
Beatrice Cole approached Clara after church.
"Mrs. Thorne."
Clara looked surprised.
Beatrice had never called her that before.
"I owe you an apology."
Clara waited.
"I judged your household."
"Yes."
Beatrice flushed.
"I thought..."
She struggled.
Clara raised an eyebrow.
"You thought Silas was a penniless opportunist and I was a desperate widow."
Beatrice looked mortified.
"That is an extremely direct way of putting it."
"It's also accurate."
"Yes."
Clara considered her.
"Apology accepted."
Beatrice glanced toward May, who was making snow angels with three other children.
"You seem happy."
Clara watched Silas laughing as May threw snow at him.
"I am."
"Was it difficult?"
"What?"
"Letting someone into Thomas's place."
Clara looked at her.
"Silas never took Thomas's place."
Beatrice seemed confused.
"Then..."
"People aren't chairs, Beatrice. You don't remove one and put another in the empty spot."
She smiled softly.
"Thomas has his place."
Her eyes found Silas.
"And Silas has his."
Spring came slowly.
Snow melted into rivers of mud.
Grass appeared.
Calves were born.
The ranch survived.
More than survived.
Because they had sold cattle before winter, they had avoided enormous losses.
Because Clara had preserved breeding records, their remaining herd was unusually strong.
A buyer from Cheyenne offered a premium for six bulls.
For the first time since Thomas died, Clara's account ledger ended a month clearly in profit.
She showed Silas.
He stared.
"Is that right?"
"Unless arithmetic changed overnight."
"We made money."
"We did."
Silas lifted her from the floor.
Clara screamed.
"Put me down!"
May ran into the kitchen.
"What's happening?"
"We're rich!" Silas announced.
"We are absolutely not rich," Clara said.
"Rich enough for pie."
May cheered.
That evening they ate apple pie.
After May went to sleep, Silas and Clara sat on the porch.
Spring wind moved softly across the fields.
"I've been thinking," Silas said.
Clara groaned.
"Again?"
"Frequently."
"Dangerous habit."
He smiled.
Then became serious.
"Our bargain was until winter."
Clara went still.
He continued.
"Winter's over."
"Yes."
Silence.
"If you want me to leave—"
Clara stood so quickly her chair scraped backward.
"Leave?"
Silas rose.
"I said if."
"Where would you go?"
"I don't know."
"And May?"
"With me."
Clara's face drained of color.
Silas immediately understood he had chosen his words badly.
"Clara—"
"So this was temporary to you?"
"No."
"You asked if I wanted you to leave as if you're discussing replacing a broken fence post!"
"I was trying to give you a choice."
"I already chose!"
Her voice broke.
She turned away.
Silas caught her hand.
"Clara."
"No."
"Listen."
She faced him, furious and crying.
"You said you wanted a family."
"I do."
"You have one."
"I know."
"Then why are you talking about leaving?"
"Because the first time we made this arrangement, you were desperate and I was desperate."
Silas stepped closer.
"I don't want you staying married to me because of something you promised a starving stranger."
Clara stared at him.
Silas removed his hat.
"I want you to choose me now."
Her anger disappeared.
"What?"
"I love you."
The words hung between them.
"I didn't plan to."
Clara gave a wet laugh.
"Very romantic."
"I'm failing badly."
"Continue."
"I loved Sarah."
"I know."
"I'll love her until I die."
"I know."
"But loving her didn't stop this."
He touched his chest.
"Whatever this became."
Clara's tears fell freely.
Silas continued.
"I love the woman who scared me half to death on a porch."
"I did not scare you."
"You absolutely did."
"I was wearing a blue dress."
"You were terrifying."
She laughed through tears.
"I love how you count every penny twice. I love that you argue with chickens when they get into your garden. I love the way you read to May using different voices even though you're terrible at them."
"I'm excellent at voices."
"No."
She hit his arm.
Silas caught her hand.
"And I love that you gave my daughter something I thought she'd lost forever."
Clara whispered, "What?"
"A mother."
Clara broke.
Silas pulled her close.
After a moment she whispered against his chest:
"I choose you."
He held her tighter.
"Good."
"I also choose May."
"She's part of the package."
"Good."
Silas tilted her face upward.
"Then perhaps we should renegotiate."
"What terms?"
"Lifetime."
Clara smiled.
"That seems long."
"I can offer pie."
"Weekly?"
"You're demanding."
"Monthly at minimum."
"Done."
They kissed beneath the spring stars.
Inside, May stood at the window.
She smiled.
Then quietly returned to bed.
The bargain was no longer a bargain.
It was a marriage.
And by summer, Clara would discover their family was about to change again.