“By Winter, You’ll Have My Son Growing Inside You” — The Giant Cowboy Vowed To The Lonely Widow

Chapter 10

Before Clara could answer, raised voices carried from the yard. Through the window, she saw Gideon in conversation with a man neither of them recognized — a thin, well-dressed stranger whose expensive clothes and pale complexion marked him as someone from the city rather than the frontier.

“That must be Grange,” Bea whispered. “Come to survey his prize before he claims it.”

They watched as the conversation grew more heated. Gideon’s normally controlled demeanor showed cracks as the stranger gestured dismissively toward the house and outbuildings. Finally, Gideon turned and strode toward the house, his face dark with barely contained fury.

“Clara,” he called as he entered. “Would you join us outside, please? Mr. Grange has some questions about the debt.”

Marcus Grange was everything Clara had expected, and worse — a man in his forties with the soft look of someone who’d never done physical labor, dressed in a suit that cost more than most families earned in a year. His eyes held the cold calculation of a predator, and when he looked at her, she felt as if he was cataloging her value as an asset.

“Mrs. Stone,” he said with false courtesy. “I’m sorry we have to meet under such unpleasant circumstances. However, business is business, and your late husband’s debt must be satisfied.”

“My late husband never mentioned borrowing money from you,” Clara said, surprised by the steadiness of her own voice. “I handled all our financial affairs. If Jonah had taken such a large loan, I would have known about it.”

Grange’s smile was patronizing. “Perhaps your husband was protecting you from worry. Men often shield their wives from business concerns, especially when those concerns involve risk.”

“Jonah and I had no secrets from each other.”

“Nevertheless, the debt exists — properly documented and witnessed.” He waved a hand toward the house. “I’m prepared to be generous in my terms. You can remain in the house until spring, giving you time to find alternative arrangements. I have no desire to turn a respectable family out into the winter cold.”

The false benevolence in his tone made Clara’s skin crawl. The man was enjoying their distress, taking pleasure in the power he held over their lives.

“How convenient that you waited until now to collect,” Gideon said, his voice deceptively calm. “Two years after Jonah’s death. Just long enough for his widow to remarry someone with assets worth claiming.”

Grange’s eyes sharpened. “I don’t care for your implication, Mr. Stone. I’ve been pursuing this debt through proper legal channels since learning of Mr. Vance’s death. These things take time — especially when the debtor’s widow relocates and remarries.”

“Relocates?” Clara stepped forward. “I lived in the same house for two years after Jonah died. You could have found me anytime you wanted.”

“As I said — legal proceedings take time.” Grange pulled out his pocket watch, checking the time with theatrical precision. “Speaking of which, you now have six days to produce payment or surrender the property. I suggest you use that time wisely.”

After he left, Clara and Gideon stood in their yard, watching his expensive carriage disappear down the mountain road. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken fears and growing suspicions.

“He’s lying,” Clara said finally. “Something about him, about this whole situation — it doesn’t feel right.”

“I agree. But proving it is another matter entirely.” Gideon’s jaw was tight with frustration. “Bea mentioned something about contacting the territorial marshal. She thinks we should request an investigation.”

“I’ll wire the marshal this afternoon,” Gideon said, his expression determined. “Explain the situation, request immediate assistance. At the very least, an official investigation might delay Grange’s claim until we can gather more evidence.”

That evening, while Gideon rode to town to send the telegram, Clara wandered through the house that had become home so quickly, touching familiar objects and trying to memorize details she might never see again. In the spare bedroom, she knelt beside the piles of planks — the cradle Gideon had been shaping in secret, preparing for the child he still believed they would have together.

The sight of the unfinished cradle, with its promise of future joy amid their current crisis, brought tears to her eyes. How could she tell him that her monthly courses had arrived that morning, right on schedule, proving once again that his confidence in her fertility might be misplaced?

Bea found her there an hour later, sitting on the floor beside the cradle wood with tears streaming down her face.

“Oh, honey,” Bea said, settling beside her. “The debt isn’t your fault. Jonah’s choices aren’t your responsibility.”

“It’s not just the debt.” Clara touched one of the smooth cradle rails, imagining Gideon working by lamplight to create something beautiful for a baby that might never come. “I’m not pregnant, Bea. It’s been six weeks, and still nothing. What if I can’t give him the children he wants so desperately?”

“Six weeks is nothing. Some women take months, even years, to conceive — and they go on to have large, healthy families.”

“But what if I’m one of the women who can’t? What if that’s why Jonah and I never had children, and Gideon’s confidence is misplaced?”

Bea was quiet for a moment, considering her words carefully. “Then you’ll love each other for who you are, not for what you can produce. Look at what he’s willing to sacrifice for you already. His house. His cattle. His plans for the future. That’s not the behavior of a man who values you only for your childbearing potential.”

“But children were part of his vow. By winter, you’ll have my son growing inside you. What happens when winter comes and I’m still empty?”

“Then you’ll face that disappointment together, the same way you’re facing this crisis together.” Bea reached over and squeezed her hand. “Clara, I’ve watched you and Gideon together these past weeks. What you have isn’t just about making babies. It’s about building a partnership that can weather any storm.”

When Gideon returned from town, he brought news that was both encouraging and frustrating. The territorial marshal had agreed to investigate Grange’s claim, but the process would take weeks to complete. In the meantime, they were on their own to find evidence that might prove the debt fraudulent.

“I also sent inquiries to banks and lending institutions in Rapid City,” he told her as they prepared for bed. “If Grange is legitimate, someone will know about his business practices. If he’s a fraud, that might come to light as well.”

“And if we can’t prove anything before the deadline?”

“Then we follow through on our original plan.” He pulled her into his arms, holding her against his chest with gentle strength. “Sell what we can. Pay what we must. Start over somewhere else. Either way, we face it together.”

As they lay in the darkness, Clara listened to the steady rhythm of her husband’s breathing and tried to find comfort in his unwavering confidence. In six days, they would know whether Marcus Grange could claim their home.

“Gideon,” she whispered into the darkness, “whatever happens, I want you to know that marrying you was the best decision I ever made.”

His arms tightened around her. “Even if it costs me everything I’ve built?”

“Even then. Because what we’re building together is worth more than any house or any amount of money.”

For the first time since Hollis had delivered the devastating news, Gideon’s tension seemed to ease. “Go to sleep, Mrs. Stone. Tomorrow, we fight for our future.”