She approached carrying a book.
“Excuse me.”
Daniel looked up.
“Yes, miss?”
“Is the east pasture open?”
“No, miss. Fence is down near the creek.”
She glanced toward the tools.
“Will it take long?”
“A day, if the weather holds.”
She nodded.
“Thank you.”
Then she looked toward the work.
“Did the horses damage it?”
Daniel shook his head.
“Rot in the lower post. Wind finished the job.”
Elizabeth examined the wood.
“Could that have been prevented?”
He looked surprised.
Most people didn't ask.
He pointed toward the post.
“Probably. It should've been replaced last year.”
She frowned.
“Then why wasn't it?”
Daniel hesitated.
He knew better than to criticize estate management in front of the judge's daughter.
Elizabeth noticed.
“I'm not going to report you for answering.”
He looked toward her.
Then smiled faintly.
“Repair was postponed.”
She nodded.
“That's a very polite way of saying someone ignored it.”
Daniel almost laughed.
“Yes, miss.”
Elizabeth smiled.
Then continued toward the stable.
After she left, Daniel watched her for a moment.
He hadn't expected curiosity.
Or humor.
And when he later heard her refusing Victor Caldwell's arrogant suggestions during a riding party, he began to suspect that the judge's daughter was not as obedient as her father believed.
Still, he kept his distance.
His purpose in Silver Creek was Morrow Bend.
Not Elizabeth Hawthorne.
That remained true until the night of the disastrous engagement dinner.
Daniel was carrying fresh water toward the stable when the raised voices reached the courtyard.
He heard the judge accuse Elizabeth of humiliating the family.
He heard her refuse to apologize.
Then he heard the threat.
A marriage arranged as punishment.
A husband selected from men her father considered beneath her.
Daniel stopped beside the service door.
He knew that the judge's words didn't create a valid marriage by themselves.
A grown woman couldn't be made a wife merely because her father posted a notice.