Sometimes they wanted cheap provisions.
Sometimes they wanted directions.
Sometimes they came because they'd heard stories about the enormous woman who lived in the mountains and wanted to satisfy their curiosity.
She had learned to recognize that last kind quickly.
But when the rancher knocked, his voice carried no amusement.
“Afternoon. I was told you take meat for curing.”
She moved toward the door, using the sturdy handrail her father had installed.
She opened it.
The rancher looked down at her.
For a moment, their eyes met.
She waited for the familiar expression.
Surprise.
Disgust.
A smirk that appeared before the man could hide it.
Instead, his gaze moved toward the smokehouse racks behind her.
“That's a fine building.”
She blinked.
“What?”
He nodded toward the heavy oak beams.
“Somebody knew what they were doing when they put that roof together.”
She stared at him.
Then answered cautiously.
“My father built it.”
The rancher looked toward the timber supports.
“Was he a carpenter?”
“Among other things.”
The man smiled faintly.
“Good one, by the look of it.”
She didn't know what to say.
He shifted the wrapped meat in his arms.
“Can you take a curing job?”
She studied him.
“What kind of meat?”
“Venison. Properly dressed and chilled.”
“How was it handled after the animal was taken?”
He answered without hesitation.
He described the timing, the storage conditions, and the way he'd kept the meat protected during the journey.
She listened carefully.
Some men became irritated when she asked questions.
They assumed she was questioning their competence.
This rancher seemed to understand that she was determining whether the meat was suitable for the work.
When he finished, she nodded.
“I'll inspect it.”
He stepped toward the worktable.
Then stopped.
“Where would you like it?”
She pointed toward a broad wooden surface near the outer wall.
“There.”
He placed the bundle carefully.
She approached, examined the wrapping, and inspected the meat using the tools and methods her father had taught her.
Then she looked toward him.
“This will do.”
The rancher nodded.
“What will you charge?”
She named a fair price.
He reached into his pocket.
She raised one hand.
“Not yet.”
He frowned.
“Why?”
“Because I haven't done the work.”
He smiled.
“Most people want money before they start.”
“I want to know I can deliver what I promise.”
The rancher studied her.
Then nodded.