That night they sat at the same rough wooden table where the deed had been unfolded and ate badly cooked eggs, beans she complained about, and the final heel of bread from a loaf that should have been replaced two days earlier.
The foreman joined them briefly, mostly because he enjoyed watching the cowboy become uncomfortable.
The Apache woman caught him smiling.
“What?”
the cowboy asked.
“Nothing.”
“You are staring.”
The foreman looked toward her.
“Does he always notice other people’s expressions and still fail to understand them?”
The Apache woman answered:
“Constantly.”
The cowboy pointed toward the door.
“Both of you can leave.”
The foreman stood.
“I actually will.”
He took another piece of bread.
The cowboy stared.
“That was mine.”
“You fired me yesterday.”
“You came back.”
“Exactly.”
He disappeared laughing.
The Apache woman watched the doorway close.
Then looked at the cowboy.
“You did fire him.”
“I have fired him twenty times.”
“And?”
“He has quit thirty.”
“Healthy arrangement.”
“Very.”
The woman smiled.
Silence settled.
Not uncomfortable.
Different.
The cowboy looked toward the deed lying inside its protective cloth.
Then toward her.
“I owe you an apology.”
“Yes.”
He waited.
She took a bite of bread.
He frowned.
“You could pretend to ask what for.”
“I have a list.”
He almost laughed.
Then became serious.
“I believed the worst.”
“I know.”
“I told myself you used me.”
She looked down at the plate.
“Yes.”
“I thought you took the deed because you wanted something from the broker.”
“Yes.”
“I was wrong.”
“Yes.”
He exhaled.
The woman finally looked toward him.
“Do you want absolution?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He nodded.
“I want you to know I understand what I did.”
She studied him.
“Do you?”
“I think so.”
“Then tell me.”
He hated when she did that.
Not letting apologies remain vague.
He looked toward the lamp.
“I was afraid.”
“That part I knew.”
“I could not control where you were.”
“Also obvious.”
“I did not know whether you were safe.”
“Yes.”
“And instead of admitting that, I decided betrayal was easier to survive than uncertainty.”
Her face softened slightly.
He continued:
“If you had betrayed me, then I could be angry.”
“If you were simply gone and I did not know why…”
He stopped.
She waited.
He looked toward her.
“Then I had to admit you mattered.”
The woman’s expression changed.
The cowboy lowered his voice.