Eli kept his hands on her waist, his forehead resting against hers. His breathing was ragged. He could feel every curve of her body against his and every instinct he had was screaming at him to lift her up, to carry her to the hayloft, to claim this connection completely. But he stopped. He pulled back, his hands sliding down her arms to hold her hands.
He looked at her, his eyes dark and dilated, but filled with a painful restraint. Maggie, he rasped. I, we cannot, not like this. Maggie looked at him, her lips swollen, her chest heaving. Why?
Because you deserve to be courted," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You deserve to be more than a comfort in the dark and and out of respect for who you are, for who I'm trying to be again. " He squeezed her hands. "If we do this, if we truly come together. " "I want it to be because we are ready. Because the past is settled, not because we are afraid of the dark. " Maggie felt a pang of disappointment, a physical ache of unfulfilled need, but beneath it, a warm current of gratitude. He was treating her with honor.
He was giving her agency. "You are a stubborn man. " "Eli Mercer," she whispered, a shaky smile touching her lips. "I am," he admitted, thumbing a tear from under her eye. "But I am your partner. If that is what you want, it is what I want. " Then tomorrow, he said, straightening up and letting her hands go with visible reluctance.
Tomorrow we open the books, and I will teach you how to use the colt. Maggie nodded. Tomorrow. They walked back to the house in the dark, not touching, but the air between them was no longer cold. It was charged, humming with a promise that was both terrifying and beautiful.
The next morning, the education of Maggie Mercer began in earnest. They sat at the kitchen table, the heavy ledger spread open between them. Eli explained the columns of figures, the price of feed, the loans Silas held, the meager profits from the last drive. Maggie listened, her brow furrowed, her finger tracing the lines. Here, she said, pointing to a recent entry.
This interest calculation, it is wrong. Eli looked. It is what the bank statement said. It is wrong, she insisted. The rate is 6%.
But this charge is calculated at 8. See, he is compounding it monthly, not yearly. The contract says yearly. Eli stared at the numbers. He grabbed a piece of slate and did the math.
She was right. Silas had been skimming off the top, adding phantom weight to the debt for months. He slammed his hand on the table. The thief. Maggie looked at him, her eyes hard.
We will catch him, Eli. We will document every penny and when he comes back we will be ready. That afternoon they went behind the barn. Eli carried his heavy Colt Navy revolver and a box of cartridges. He set up tin cans on a fence post 20 yards away.
It kicks. He warned her. Hold it with both hands. Maggie took the gun. It was heavy cold steel that smelled of oil.