Briggs laughed. What witnesses? He turned his horse. His riders followed. Before leaving, Briggs looked over one shoulder.
Tomorrow, Cole. Then they rode away. Clara waited until they vanished behind the ridge. He wanted me outside. I noticed.
Why? That's what bothers me. Ethan stepped down from the porch and checked the fence line. Clara followed. You think he would hurt me?
I think Briggs hurts anything standing between him and money. She watched him walk toward the barn. You're angry. I'm thinking. You always look angry when you think.
He stopped. You remember that, too? Clara's face softened. I remember more than I should. The answer settled between them.
For a moment, the threat from Briggs seemed far away. Then Ethan looked at the letter still in her hand. You said you wrote that after the dance. Yes. And your father hid it.
Yes. What did it say? Clara looked down at the envelope. I don't know if I can read it now. Ethan stepped closer.
You kept it 17 years. My mother kept it 17 years. But you brought it here. Her fingers tightened around the paper. Yes.
Why? She raised her eyes. Because I wanted to know if losing you was really my choice. Ethan felt those words deeper than any bullet could have reached. It wasn't.
Clara's breath caught. He took another step. I came to your father's store next morning. She stared at him. What?
I told him I wanted to speak with you. Her face went pale. What did he say? That you were ashamed of what happened beneath the cottonwoods, that you wanted me gone. Clara shook her head slowly.
No. He said you were going east to marry someone better. No. I believed him. Her eyes shone.
My father told me you had laughed about me with the ranch boys. He said you thought I was foolish for believing you cared. Ethan looked away. The anger inside him had no place to go. Both their fathers were dead.
The years were gone. No bullet could bring them back. Clara's voice trembled. I waited three nights beneath those cottonwoods. Ethan turned sharply.
You waited? Until midnight. He stared at her. I was halfway to Montana by then. Clara covered her mouth with one hand.
17 lost years stood between them like a graveyard. Ethan stepped toward her. I would have come. She looked at him. I know that now.
A shout rose from the barn. Both turned. One of Ethan's horses was kicking hard against its stall. Ethan ran first. Clara followed.