The rancher’s hands tightened slightly on the reins.
“How?”
“You talked more.”
He almost smiled.
“Paper doesn’t stare back.”
Her expression changed.
She understood more than he intended.
“What did you expect?”
she asked.
The question struck too directly.
He stared ahead.
“Someone willing to work.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
He glanced at her.
She was not angry.
Not yet.
He answered carefully.
“I don’t know.”
That was a lie.
She knew.
But she gave him an escape.
“Neither did I.”
He looked toward her.
She continued:
“Your letters did not say how quiet you were.”
“They also didn’t say you carried a trunk made of iron.”
That surprised a laugh out of her.
The sound was warm and full.
The rancher felt something inside him ease despite himself.
Then guilt followed.
Because attraction should not need to surprise him out of prejudice.
He looked forward again.
The woman noticed.
Said nothing.
Broken Spur Ranch appeared just before sunset.
The house sat low against the land.
One main cabin.
A smaller storage building.
Barn.
Corral.
Fencing that needed work almost everywhere.
The woman looked at the northern section where three posts leaned at angles.
“You were not exaggerating about the fence.”
“No.”
“You may have understated it.”
The rancher gave her a look.
She smiled faintly.
Then they reached the house.
He carried the trunk inside.
The woman stepped through the door.
Stopped.
The rancher saw his home through her eyes for the first time.
It was terrible.
Dirty dishes crowded one corner of the kitchen.
Ash had accumulated around the stove.
A pot had been left soaking so long the water had turned gray.
Blankets lay in a heap near the chair.
Grease stained part of the wall beside the cooking surface.
Boot tracks crossed the floor.
A shirt hung from the back of a chair.
Another from a nail.
The pantry door would not close because a sack of flour leaned against it.
The rancher felt defensive before she said anything.
She said nothing.
That was worse.
“I’ve been busy.”
The woman looked toward him.
“I did not criticize you.”
“You were thinking it.”
She looked around again.
“I was thinking this house has needed two people for longer than you wanted to admit.”
He stared.
Then looked away.
“There’s a room in back.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
“Where do you sleep?”
“Front room.”