The stranger finished cutting the elk shortly before nine.
By then, most of the miners had eaten.
The tables were quieter, the drunken laughter had softened, and several men had begun drifting toward the saloon.
Bram Kincaid remained near the far wall.
He hadn't spoken to the stranger again.
But he watched him with a hatred that made Loretta uneasy.
The stranger cleaned the butcher's table.
Then he approached the counter.
"Any more work?"
Loretta looked toward the dishes.
"There always is."
He smiled faintly.
"Then I suppose I'd better start."
She shook her head.
"You've done more than enough."
He looked toward the enormous stack of plates waiting beside the basin.
"Doesn't look like it."
Loretta hesitated.
She wasn't accustomed to receiving help without being asked what she could offer in return.
Finally, she said, "You brought enough elk to feed this place for two days. I ought to be paying you."
The stranger looked toward the griddle.
"Then give me a plate."
She smiled.
"That seems a poor bargain."
He shrugged.
"Depends who's cooking."
Loretta felt herself blush.
She turned toward the stove before he could notice.
She prepared a large portion of steak, potatoes, onions, and bread, then placed it on a sturdy plate near the counter.
The stranger sat at the end of the long table.
He removed his gloves.
Then he began eating.
For several minutes, he said nothing.
Loretta watched from the kitchen.
Finally, he looked up.
"This is good."
She smiled faintly.
"Thank you."
He took another bite.
Then he shook his head.
"No. This is very good."
Loretta looked down.
"You're kind."
The stranger frowned.
"Not especially."
She laughed softly.
Something about the sound made him stop eating.
He looked toward her.
For a moment, his expression became intensely emotional.
Then he lowered his eyes.
Loretta noticed.
But she didn't ask why.
Instead, she poured coffee into a heavy mug and carried it carefully to his table.
He rose immediately.
"You needn't bring that over."
She smiled.
"I know."
He looked embarrassed.
Then he accepted the mug.
Their fingers nearly touched.
Loretta felt an unexpected nervousness.
The stranger stared at her hand.
She noticed a thin, faded blue thread caught around the handle of her apron.
He seemed to forget how to breathe.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he asked quietly, "Do you remember Alder Pass?"
Loretta froze.
The question seemed to come from nowhere.