she held dear. Even her freedom, which now must be sacrificed in order to save other things, like family unity and her home.
Her house. It would soon be hers, if her parents really were lost at sea. Clare had wanted to own her own business, and probably her own home. She was getting one of those dreams, but might soon have to rent it out just to pay its mortgage.
At that thought, Noah walked out of his office. He stopped in front of Clare’s desk. Beyond, Pooley was helping a young couple at the counter, leaving him a modicum of privacy.
Clare was in the midst of copying the last of the land deed ledgers. Last year, when Noah had hired her, it was to fill the temporary position of copier, transcribing thick ledgers that had been damaged when the roof had leaked. Now that she was full-time, she continued that work at her desk, all the while helping at the front counter if the need arose, which it rarely did. Noah watched her for a moment as she carefully transcribed a line, taking pains to be neat and accurate.
She looked up, a question on her face. Those big, soft, sad eyes made her complexion seem paler today. Her pert little nose was slightly red. Today, she’d neglected to apply the powder most women preferred. A telltale sign that she was out of sorts.
Noah scrubbed a hand across his jaw, knowing he should do more for her. She was grieving and yet kept insisting on going about her regular business as if nothing was amiss. He cleared his throat. “You returned to work because you felt you needed the money. You have bills to pay and a mortgage to sort out.”
“Yes.”
“Since we’re engaged, that’s not the case anymore, so you don’t need to be here.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he hurried on, “You can be at home taking care of other things. As soon as I get the necessary paperwork in order and at Pastor Wyseman’s convenience, we can get married. It could take a few weeks, though, so keep that in mind when you meet with the bank.”
He watched her throat bob slowly, hating how he sounded as though they were discussing a small task here at work. “Here’s a thought to present to the bank. Why don’t you rent out your house? Many families who want to move West will often want temporary lodging while they’re building a home for themselves. If you rent yours, it can pay your mortgage. There may be enough left over for other expenses like taxes.”
Clare blinked those long black lashes at him. Did she not understand him? Had he not made himself clear enough?
He explained further, “However, you’ll first need to gain some legal control over your parents’ estate. You won’t be allowed to rent out the house until you have care and control of it. Did your parents arrange for that?”
Those soft lips pursed and she shook her head. “Not that I’m aware,” she finally said. Her expression might give the impression of innocence more often than not, but today, it showed only hurt. Then, abruptly, her jaw tightened and she set down her pen. Her hands dropped to her lap and she shut her eyes.
She was angry. Noah folded his arms. “What arrangements did your parents make? Surely they knew that crossing the Atlantic wasn’t without risk?”
She shrugged, but from the color rising in her cheeks, he knew the action was anything but casual.
“How quickly did your mother decline before they left?”
“Quickly enough to make my father forget.”
“So he probably forgot to make any legal arrangements or update his will, if he had one,” Noah said, keeping his tone reasonable. He pulled out his pocket watch to consult the time. “You’ll need to see a lawyer, then. You said you were going to the bank at lunch. It’s too early for that, but you should consult a lawyer first, anyway. Go do that now. And ask him how long your parents need to be missing before they are presumed dead and death certificates are issued. I haven’t yet had to deal with that situation here.”
* * *
How crisp and businesslike he sounded, Clare decided, fighting back a sudden surge of irritation. Seeing a lawyer first was good idea. Something she should have already thought of.
Was that why she was upset? That she should have considered it before he did?
Resentment rose above the anger and she hated it. A few minutes ago, she’d practically asked Noah if he would solve her problems for her. Now she was upset when he was trying to! When did she become so fickle?
Her cheeks burned. She shouldn’t have had to take her problems to a man. To anyone, for that matter. She was college educated, someone her parents had entrusted with their youngest children. She’d taken a semester of family law, albeit one tailored for ladies only, but one nonetheless. She should have had these answers already.
“Is there something the matter?” Noah asked again.
Not something. Everything. She tried not to look miffed, instead, leaning forward and plastering on her face the calmest expression she could manage. If she was going to be married to this man, she should at least be honest with him. “I can’t help but feel as though the idea of renting my house should have been...well, mine! Frankly, I don’t think I should be turning to you for the solutions to all my problems.”
Clare felt her heart plummet. Oh, how petty she sounded!
To add to that, grief draped over her.
Noah looked surprised. “You would have thought of it eventually. You have a lot on your mind right now.”
“That’s very gracious of you, Noah,” she said, only remembering after speaking that he’d suggested more formality in the workplace. “I mean, Mr. Livingstone. But I don’t agree. It’s not just having a lot on my mind. I have to give up my home, the only one I’ve ever had. It’s, well, sad.”
“It’s for the best. I own a ranch. I can’t leave it.”
“I don’t know how you manage both a job here and a ranch. Animals need care all the time.”
“The ranch is small, and I have a hand come in twice a week to help.”
“But it’s still a ranch!”
Noah cleared his throat. “I only have one animal right now.”
“Really?” She could feel her expression go slack. “That one you bought from Mr. Burrows?”
“Yes. As I mentioned before, I want to run a ranch for rescued equine. All kinds. Pit ponies, feral horses, abandoned mules.”
“I know that.” She frowned. “But why? Old horses and such can only be put out to pasture.”
“Because they’re not just put out to pasture! Grazing land here is valuable and given only to cattle. Feral horses and retired mine ponies are seen as stealing grass and water. I want to start a program of saving them. Some I will be able to rehabilitate.”
“What good will that do? Most will be too old or cantankerous to have any value.”
“But not all. Some will be useful, pulling carts, teaching children. There is a new society that cares for animals that relies on donations, so perhaps my ranch will, also.” His voice rose. “After the war, many horses were put down, and I feel that was such a waste. We can’t be cruel to animals. That’s not what God wants of us. We’re caretakers of this earth. It’s time we started acting like it.”
She arched a brow. “Even wild or feral ones and their offspring?”
“Yes! Can’t anyone see that horses, mules and ponies built this nation? But they’re treated well only as long as they serve men.” His tone had a fierce edge to it.
“So you care for this pony each day before you come in?”
“Yes. I can even show your brothers how to care for him. They’ll need to learn to do chores anyway.”
She bristled. “They have always had chores. This morning I had them sweeping and bringing in wood.”
“I