"You told me there was no other debt."
"I told you not to worry about it."
Price shifted his hat. "Mr. Hart, we can return tomorrow if—"
"No," Rachel said.
George turned on her. "Enough."
Rachel looked at Price. "How much time?"
Price paused. George said, "You don't need—"
"How much time?"
Price answered her. "Payment was due March first. Your father received an extension through April 15th."
Rachel looked at the sky as though the date might be written there. It was April 23rd. Eight days late.
"What happens now?"
Price folded his gloves. "The notes permit seizure and sale of the pledged stock."
"No."
George's voice was low. "Rachel."
She turned. "You can't sell those mares."
"They aren't being sold today."
Price said nothing. That silence told her more. Rachel looked back at him.
"When?"
"Saturday."
Three days. Her breath shortened. "Daisy is in foal."
"That increases her value," Price said.
Rachel stared at him until his eyes shifted away. George stepped closer. "I'll settle it."
"With what?"
"I'll find something."
"With what, Pa?"
His face hardened. "That's my concern."
"No. It became mine when you put my horses on a debt I didn't know existed."
"They are not your horses."
The yard went silent. Wind moved dust along the barn wall. Rachel heard a loose hinge knocking somewhere behind her.
Once. Twice.
"They are the farm's horses," George said.
Rachel looked at him. "I bred Daisy to the Parker stallion."
"So?"
"I chose June's line."
"On my farm."
"I sat up three nights with Martha when she had fever."
"Because you live here."
Rachel folded the note slowly. The paper shook. George saw. His mouth softened for a moment.
Then pride closed it again. "Rachel, you need to understand something. This place has fed you since the day you were born."
"Roof over your head. Food on your plate. Horses to work with. You act like I took something from you."