I've traveled longer." She adjusted her shawl against the morning chill. From Boston to here took two weeks. By train and stage, I imagine, not by farm wagon over rough roads. Are you trying to convince me to stay behind, Mr. Walker? Would it work if I were?
Not in the slightest. He made that sound again, the one that might have been a laugh if he'd let it fully form. Clara was beginning to recognize it as his way of acknowledging points scored against him. They rode in companionable silence as the sun rose, painting the mountains in shades of rose and gold. Clara found herself mesmerized by the landscape, so different from the crowded streets and gray harbors of Boston.
Here the world seemed endless, full of possibilities and second chances. "It's beautiful," she murmured, not really meaning to speak aloud. "Differ from back east. Like another world entirely. In Boston, you can't see the horizon.
Buildings and people everywhere pressing in. Here, she gestured at the vast expanse of prairie and mountain. Here you can breathe. Margaret said something similar when she first came out. His voice was thoughtful rather than pained.
Said the space made her feel small but free at the same time. That's exactly it. Clara glanced at him. Where was she from originally? St. Louis.
Her father ran a dry goods store there, but he had dreams of cattle ranching. Brought the whole family out when Margaret was 16. She used to joke that he dragged them to the edge of the world. But she loved it. Eventually, took some adjusting.
The first winter nearly broke her. She'd never seen snow like we get here. But by spring, she said she couldn't imagine living anywhere else. It was the most he'd spoken about Margaret without that edge of grief making his voice sharp. Clara treasured the small confidence, filing it away with the other pieces of information she'd been gathering about this complex man beside her.
Around midday, they stopped to rest the horses and eat the lunch Molly had packed. Clara spread a blanket under a stand of cottonwoods near a small creek. The sound of water a pleasant accompaniment to their meal. Ethan seemed more relaxed away from the ranch, as if the distance from memories allowed him to breathe easier. "Tell me about this lawyer," Clara said, cutting slices from a loaf of bread.
Can we trust him? Sam Fletcher's honest as they come. We served together briefly during the war. You were in the war. She hadn't known this about him.
3 years cavalry. He accepted the bread and cheese. She offered longest 3 years of my life. Sam saved my life at Chancellorsville. Figure that makes him trustworthy enough.