“Why didn’t you?”
He reached for the notebook.
People laugh.
Rosalie’s eyes burned.
She pushed the notebook aside.
“Then let them.”
He watched her carefully.
Rosalie placed his hand against her throat.
She said his name slowly.
“Gideon.”
He felt the vibration beneath his palm.
She said it again.
His expression softened.
Then he tried.
“Rosalie.”
This time it was clearer.
She smiled.
And Gideon smiled back.
The following morning, a rider approached the ranch.
Dr. Whitcomb.
He carried a leather satchel and looked as though he had not slept.
“I found my father’s records.”
Rosalie brought him inside.
Whitcomb spread several letters across the table.
“My father corresponded with Elias Bell.”
Gideon sat opposite him while Rosalie translated important details into the notebook.
Whitcomb pointed to one letter.
