Daniel kept glancing at Eleanor with an expression almost like pride.
She understood something had changed.
By publicly defending her, Daniel had claimed Eleanor as family.
That evening, after both boys were asleep, Eleanor and Thomas stood together in the kitchen completing their normal routine.
"Thank you," she finally said.
Thomas paused while drying a dish.
"For standing up for me today. For us."
"You're my wife."
Thomas's tone remained practical.
"Those are my children."
He met her eyes.
"What affects you affects all of us."
Practical words.
Yet Eleanor heard something warmer underneath.
"The boys were very brave."
"They were."
Thomas hung the towel.
"And very honest."
He looked toward Eleanor.
"Do I really smile more now?"
Eleanor's cheeks warmed.
"Sometimes."
"Real smiles?"
"When you're not thinking about it."
Thomas considered this.
"I hadn't realized."
"It's not a bad thing."
Eleanor quickly added.
"It only means you're settling into this new life we're building."
"We."
Thomas repeated it as if testing the word.
Then something softened.
"Yes."
A faint smile.
"I suppose we are building something together."
Eleanor nodded.
She didn't trust her voice.
It wasn't love.
Not yet.
Perhaps it never would be.
But it was partnership.
Respect.
The beginning of something that looked increasingly like family.
Outside, Montana wind howled.
Inside, warmth held.
They had weathered their first true test.
Together.
That was something upon which a future might be built.
The trouble began with missing cattle.
Thomas first noticed during his weekly count.
Twenty head missing from the north pasture.
No broken gate.
No ordinary sign they had wandered.
Some of his finest breeding stock.
Worth more money than many families saw in a year.
"Could be wolves," Jake Morrison suggested.
Jake was Thomas's most trusted ranch hand, though his tone suggested he didn't believe his own theory.
"Hard winter. Maybe they're getting desperate."
Thomas crouched beside the fence.
"Wolves don't cut wire, Jake."
He examined the ground.
"And they don't drive cattle in organized groups toward the railroad."
Eleanor overheard part of the discussion from the kitchen window while preparing lunch.
A chill unrelated to February weather moved through her stomach.
She knew stories of cattle rustlers.
Families stripped of everything by organized thieves who could disappear into endless open country with stolen herds.
That evening, Thomas called his men into the parlor.