She had not thought about it.
That was a lie.
She had thought too much.
“I may go to Boise.”
Josiah’s chest tightened.
“Why?”
“Work.”
“You have work here.”
“My contract ends.”
“Renew it.”
“As cook?”
He heard the challenge.
“No.”
“What then?”
He looked toward the smokehouse ruins.
“Partner.”
Martha stared.
“In what?”
“Provision business.”
“Mine contracts.”
“Smokehouse.”
“Maybe a proper curing operation.”
“You’ve already built half of it.”
Martha said nothing.
Josiah continued.
“You put in labor and knowledge.”
“I put in land and capital.”
“Profit split.”
“Written contract.”
Her eyebrow rose.
“Written?”
“I learn.”
“What percentage?”
He told her.
Too low.
She said so.
They negotiated for twenty minutes.
Romance, if this was romance, apparently involved margin structures.
Eventually they agreed.
Martha held out her hand.
“Deal.”
Josiah took it.
Then did not release.
She looked at him.
“What?”
He swallowed.
Suddenly the man who faced blizzards, debt, armed thieves, and court hearings looked terrified.
Martha almost smiled.
“I also want you to stay for another reason.”
“There it is.”
“I’m trying.”
“Poorly.”
“Yes.”
He took a breath.
“I like waking up knowing you’re here.”
Martha stopped smiling.
“I like hearing you argue with Gideon.”
“That is not flattering.”
“I like that you tell me when I’m wrong.”
“Frequent service.”
“I like watching you with Billy.”
“I like that my ranch is better when you’re on it.”
Martha looked away.
Josiah continued.
“And I know that sounds dangerously close to saying I want you because you’re useful.”
“Yes.”
“So let me say this badly another way.”
She looked back.
“I want you when you’re not useful.”
That startled her.
He continued.
“When your knee hurts.”
“When you’re tired.”
“When you burn something and pretend you meant to.”
“I did not—”
“You burned those biscuits.”
“Continue carefully.”
He smiled.
“When you are angry.”
“When you don’t solve anything.”
“When you sit outside and do absolutely nothing.”
“I have never done absolutely nothing.”
“That may be a separate problem.”
Martha’s eyes had begun shining.
She disliked that.
Josiah’s voice softened.
“I judged you when you arrived.”
“I was wrong.”
“I don’t want to pretend I always saw you clearly.”
“I didn’t.”
“But I see more now.”
Martha looked toward the water.
“My husband died six years ago.”
“I know.”
“I loved him.”
Josiah nodded.
“I know.”
“I’m not looking to replace him.”
“I’m not asking.”
“I’m difficult.”
“I have documentation.”
She laughed through tears.
Then became serious.
“My body is not going to become convenient.”
“I know.”
“I cannot ride ordinary horses.”
“I know.”
“I need furniture that fits.”
“I know.”
“My knees hurt.”
“I know.”
“People stare.”
“I know.”