Chapter 7
The trader smiled.
“Callaghan.”
Mason kept walking.
“Heard you still have that girl.”
Mason stopped.
Rusk approached with exaggerated friendliness.
“Hope she’s earning her keep.”
“She’s not property, Rusk.”
“Funny thing about property. Folks always think they understand what belongs to whom.”
Mason turned.
“Stay away from my ranch.”
Rusk’s smile widened.
“Wouldn’t dream of bothering a respectable man.”
Then his expression changed.
“Unless there’s something respectable men ought to know.”
Mason stepped closer.
“If you’ve got something to say, say it.”
Rusk glanced toward the sheriff’s office across the street.
“Ask your little houseguest who she knew before you found her.”
A cold sensation settled beneath Mason’s ribs.
“What does that mean?”
Rusk merely tipped his hat.
“Enjoy your afternoon.”
Mason watched him disappear into the crowd.
He considered following.
Instead, he returned to his wagon, suddenly eager to get home.
When Mason arrived, Clara was seated at the kitchen table.
She had spread a small bundle of belongings before her: a handkerchief, an old ribbon, and a folded piece of paper.
She swept everything into her lap when he entered.
“Something wrong?” Mason asked.
“No.”
He set the groceries down.
“Rusk was in town.”
Clara went motionless.
Mason saw the color drain from her face.
“He asked about you.”
The paper slipped from her fingers.
She immediately bent to retrieve it.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing useful. Just wanted to make trouble.”
Clara stood so quickly that her chair scraped the floor.
“He came looking for me?”
“I don’t know.”
“He knows I’m here?”
“He already knew I took you from the auction.”
She pressed one hand against the table.
Mason approached carefully.
“Clara, who is that man?”
She shook her head.
“Somebody you should stay away from.”
“Did he hurt you?”
She looked at him.
For one instant, he thought she would finally explain everything.
Instead, she whispered, “You shouldn’t have paid for me.”
Mason felt the words like a blow.
“You’d rather I left you there?”
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“That’s the worst part.”
She turned toward the window.
“I wanted you to come.”
Mason stared at her.
“What?”
Clara’s breathing quickened.
Before she could answer, hoofbeats sounded outside.
Both turned.
A rider approached the house.
Mason recognized his nearest neighbor, Thomas Bell, an older rancher who occasionally helped with cattle drives.
Thomas dismounted awkwardly and hurried up the steps.
“Mason, got a minute?”
Mason stepped onto the porch.