Months passed. The ranch thrived once more. Ethan built Clara a small house beside his own — no longer a place for a servant, but for a partner.
One evening, as the sun set over golden fields, Ethan approached her as she baked.
“Yes, sir?” she answered gently.
“I don’t want you calling me ‘sir’ anymore.”
She looked up, smiling. “Then what should I call you?”
He took a step closer. “Ethan. And from now on, this ranch isn’t just mine — it’s ours.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “You really mean that?”
“I do,” he said softly. “Stay with me. Don’t ever leave.”
She placed her flour-dusted hands in his. “I’ll stay. No one’s ever seen me the way you do — not for how I look, but for who I am.”
They embraced beneath the wide Western sky — a man and woman who had found, amid hardship and dust, a love built not on appearance or luck, but on respect, courage, and heart.
