“The reverend can be here after noon.”
The woman nodded.
“If you’ve changed your mind…”
He stopped.
She looked toward him.
“That possibility belongs to both of us.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He met her eyes.
She continued:
“We have one night before anything becomes legal.”
“Yes.”
“If you regret the arrangement, say so.”
The directness frightened him.
He looked at the table.
The woman saw.
Her face changed.
“You do.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
He exhaled.
“I’m not trying to insult you.”
“That rarely prevents an insult.”
He winced.
She pushed her plate slightly away.
The rancher finally said:
“I had an idea in my head.”
“About what I’d be.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m not it.”
He looked toward her.
“No.”
Silence.
He hated himself.
The woman’s eyes lowered briefly.
When she looked up again, they were controlled.
“What was she like?”
“Who?”
“The imaginary wife who got off that coach before I did.”
The rancher almost laughed from discomfort.
She did not.
He answered honestly.
“Smaller.”
Her face tightened.
He continued before cowardice took over.
“That’s all.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“That is not all.”
“You saw me and thought the fifty dollars had been wasted.”
The rancher went completely still.
She had hit the exact thought.
He looked away.
Her eyes filled slightly.
Not tears.
Anger and humiliation.
She stood.
He stood too.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked toward him.
“For thinking it?”
“Yes.”
“For letting me see it?”
“Both.”
The woman folded her arms.
“You asked for honesty in your letters.”
“I know.”
“So here is mine.”
The rancher braced.
“I nearly turned around at the station.”
He stared.
“Why?”
“Because I saw your face.”
His shame deepened.
She continued:
“I have been laughed at before.”
“Men have looked at me before and decided my body told them everything they needed to know.”
“I expected better from a man who wrote that he wanted a partner.”
The rancher said nothing.
What defense existed?
None.
She continued:
“But you told those boys to stop.”
“That matters.”
“You carried my trunk.”
“That does not.”
“You prepared a clean bed.”
“That matters.”
“And you are standing here looking like you wish the floor would open.”
Despite herself, her mouth moved.
The rancher almost smiled.
She continued:
“So I have not decided what kind of man you are.”
He looked toward her.