Mama Margaret is in heaven. She can't come back, but Mama Clara is here, and she takes care of us, and she makes you smile sometimes, so yes, it would be okay. Permission granted by a six-year-old, but somehow it felt like the most important blessing they could receive. Ethan looked at Clara, questioning in his eyes. "Not until you're healed," she said, but she was smiling.
"I don't want to hurt you." "Too late," he said softly. "You already have in the best possible way." Over the next week, as Ethan recovered, something shifted in the household. The careful distance between husband and wife began to close. Clara still kept her own room, but she spent her evenings in Ethan's as he healed, reading aloud while Sophie played on the floor. They talked about everything and nothing.
Books, dreams, plans for the ranch, memories both bitter and sweet. Morrison stayed quiet, too quiet. Sam sent word that he'd filed the testimonies with the territorial court, but it would take time for a response. Time they didn't have with the 30-day deadline approaching. We need a backup plan, Clara said one evening, if the legal challenge doesn't work in time.
I won't let you write to your aunt, Ethan said firmly. Not to beg for money for my failures. Our failures, if they are failures, and it's not begging, it's seeking investment. Clara, no. Listen, I've been thinking.
What if we didn't ask for charity, but offered a genuine investment opportunity? The timber rights, mineral rights, even a partnership in the cattle operation. Your pride doesn't have to be the death of this ranch. He was quiet for a long moment. You do that?
Bring your family into this mess? You're my family now, she said simply. You and Sophie, this ranch. This is my life now, Ethan. I choose it.
I choose you. He caught her hand, bringing it to his lips. I don't deserve you. Probably not, she agreed with a small smile. But you're stuck with me anyway.
That night, she wrote two letters. One to her aunt in Boston laying out a business proposition with clear terms and potential returns. The other to her father's former partner making a similar offer. She didn't tell Ethan about the second letter, not wanting to get his hopes up. 3 days before the deadline, both responses arrived on the same day.
Her aunt's refusal was curt and disapproving. The partner's acceptance was enthusiastic with a bank draft for $4,000 and a proposal for an ongoing business relationship. Clara's hands shook as she carried the letter to Ethan, who was finally up and moving around, though still weak. "Read this," she said. He did.