"I thought Harding's offer was a better one," she said. "A more settled situation." She set a bowl on the drying rack. "I was wrong about that."
"You weren't wrong about what you wanted," Eli said. "Just the specific place." Clara turned to look at him. He was looking at the account books, but not at them.
His eyes were on the page, but his attention was here in the room. She'd noticed he did that when he was thinking about something he hadn't decided how to say yet. She waited. "This ranch is short," he said finally.
"Not ruined. Not even close. But the past two winters have been hard, and I've been spending too much on hired help because I've been trying to do with four men what a properly run operation needs six for." He turned a page without reading it.
"If I had a full household, someone managing the inside of this place properly so my mother wasn't running herself into the ground, someone reliable with the boys, I could put two more men on the land work, and we'd turn the corner by spring." Clara was very still. "I'm not saying this right," Eli said.
"You're saying it plainly enough," Clara said. "I'm following you." He looked at her now. "I'm not Tom Harding."
"I'm not going to put an advertisement in a newspaper and ask a woman to cross the country on a promise I can't keep." He paused. "But you're already here. And we already know—"
He stopped and started again. "The boys already trust you. My mother trusts you, and she doesn't trust people quickly. And you—"
Another pause. "You handled yourself today in a way that made me think you could handle anything this place put in front of you." "Eli?" Clara said carefully. "I'm not asking you to marry me," he said quickly.
"I'm not. That's not what this is. I'm asking if you would consider staying on as a proper housekeeper." Clara said nothing.
"Paid. With a real agreement written down. The way things should be done. Your own room, fair wages, and no obligation beyond what the work requires."
Clara turned back to the sink. She stood there with her hands in the cooling water and looked at the frost on the window, which was thinner tonight, the warmth finally making ground. "You could still leave if it isn't right," he said. "I'd never hold you to anything that wasn't working for you."
"But I'd like you to consider it before you get on that coach." She didn't answer right away. She stood at the sink and thought about the laundry she'd put away that afternoon. The easy way she'd moved through the house, knowing where everything was.