And you're awfully stubborn for someone who just got thrown from a horse. Sophie giggled. Actually giggled. And both adults turned to stare at her. She immediately covered her mouth, looking guilty for finding anything amusing in Clara's presence.
Why don't you sit with your father for a while? Clara suggested. Make sure he doesn't try to sneak out to the barn when I'm not looking. Sophie nodded solemnly, taking her duty seriously. She pulled a chair close to Ethan's, her small hand reaching out to touch his arm as if reassuring herself he was really okay.
Clara busied herself at the stove, giving them space, but listening to their quiet conversation. Sophie was telling him about a bird's nest she'd found. Her voice animated in a way Clara hadn't heard before. Ethan responded with genuine interest, asking questions, making suggestions about what kind of bird it might be. This was who they were without the weight of grief and resentment.
A father and daughter who adored each other, who found joy in simple discoveries. Clara felt like an intruder witnessing something private and precious. Miss Clara. Sophie's voice startled her. Could you teach me now about medicine?
Clara glanced at Ethan, who shrugged slightly. Not exactly permission, but not refusal either. We could start with something simple, Clara said carefully. Would you like to learn how to make a healing salve? It's good for cuts and scrapes.
Sophie nodded eagerly, and for the next hour, Clara taught her how to mix herbs and beeswax, how to test the consistency, how to store it properly. The child was a quick learner, asking intelligent questions, showing a focus that reminded Clara of herself at that age, hungry for knowledge in any form. "My mama used to make something that smelled like roses," Sophie said suddenly, her hands stilling in their work. "For her hands," she said. "Rose hip oil, probably," Clara said gently.
"Would you like to learn to make that, too?" Sophie bit her lip, clearly torn between loyalty to her mother's memory and curiosity. Finally, curiosity won. Maybe if it's not the same, if it's different from mama's. Everything we make will be different. Clara assured her.
This is our recipe, yours and mine, not anyone else's. Sophie seemed satisfied with that, returning to her work with renewed concentration. Ethan watched them from his chair, his expression unreadable. Clara couldn't tell if he was angry about Sophie warming to her or relieved that his daughter was showing interest in something besides grief. The peace was shattered by the sound of horses approaching fast.
Tom burst through the door, his face grim. Boss, we got trouble. Morrison's here with some men saying something about inspecting the property. Ethan was on his feet immediately, swaying only slightly. What kind of inspection?
The kind where they're looking for reasons to call in your loan early," Tom said bluntly. "He's got that smile on his face. The one that means someone's about to lose everything." Clara felt her stomach drop. She'd seen that smile, knew exactly what it meant. Morrison was a predator who fed on others misfortunes, and he'd clearly decided that forcing this marriage wasn't enough.