They sat across from each other, the table suddenly feeling like a border between two countries. Luke folded his hands. “Here’s the truth,” he said. “I bought you today because I couldn’t stand watching you sold to men who would use you badly. I’m not proud that I had to participate in that system. But I did, and now we decide what happens next.”
Clara studied his face for the lie. She had become fluent in lies. They always had a shine, like oil on water.
“You can leave,” Luke continued. “I meant it. But I won’t pretend it’s safe. A woman alone out here… you know what that means.”
Clara’s voice was flat. “What’s the alternative?”
“You can stay,” Luke said. “I need help running this ranch. Cooking, mending, washing, tending the garden. Work. I’ll pay you wages. Real wages. And I give you my word I won’t touch you in any way you don’t want.”
The words wages and word landed like stones in her palm. Heavy. Real. Hard to swallow.
“And where do I sleep?” she asked.
“You take the bed,” Luke said, as if it was obvious. “I’ll sleep in the barn.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Clara snapped before she could soften it. Anger was safer than hope. “It’s your house.”
Luke didn’t flinch. “It’s a roof,” he said. “And you need to feel safe.”
