The Severance Package

The next day, Chloe was rummaging through Jericho’s trunk looking for coffee beans (the caffeine withdrawal was becoming a genuine medical emergency) when her hand brushed against a stiff piece of parchment at the bottom.

She pulled it out.

It was a Bill of Sale. Dated the day of the auction.

But there was something else stapled to it—well, pinned to it.

A Manumission Paper. A freedom document.

*I, Jericho Ford, hereby release the woman known as Dolly from all debts and servitude, effective immediately.*

It was signed and dated the same day.

Chloe stared at the paper.

He had freed her. Five minutes after he bought her. He had brought her here not as a slave, but as a free woman. He just... hadn't told her.

"Why?" she whispered.

Because he didn't know how to talk to her. Because he thought she had nowhere else to go. Because he was a big, dumb, noble idiot.

The door opened. Jericho walked in.

"I found a curtain rod," he grunted, holding a smooth stick of pine.

Chloe held up the paper.

Jericho froze. The pine stick clattered to the floor. A deep, red blush crept up his neck, visible even through the stubble.

"You're free," he mumbled, looking at his boots. "Always were. I just... I figured you needed a place to stay until you got your bearings. I was going to give you money for the train whenever you asked."

"You let me make a chore chart," Chloe said. "You let me yell at you about crop rotation. You ate my charcoal biscuits. And I didn't have to do any of it?"

"I didn't want you to feel... indebted," Jericho said. "I'm not a slaver, Chloe. I just wanted Salyard to lose."

Chloe looked at the paper. Then she looked at the cabin. The charcoal chart on the wall. The rough table where they ate dinner together every night. The bedroll in the corner where he slept so she could have the cot.

She realized she had been waiting for a severance package, but what she really wanted was a promotion.

She ripped the paper in half.

Jericho’s eyes widened. "What are you doing? That’s legal binding."

"I'm renegotiating my contract," Chloe said, stepping toward him. "I don't want to leave. The commute back to Seattle is terrible."

"You want to stay?" Jericho asked, his voice hopeful and terrified. "Here? In the dirt?"

"The dirt has potential," Chloe said. "But we are going to need to talk about the indoor plumbing again. That is a non-negotiable term of my continued employment."

Jericho let out a breath, a small smile tugging at his scarred lip. "I can dig a trench."

"Good," Chloe said. "Now, wash your hands. I’m trying to make stew, and I need you to tell me if this is a potato or a rock."

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