He looked toward the clear road.
“You could have come.”
She pulled back.
“Father said it was dangerous.”
“It was.”
“That proves my point.”
Behind them, the Younger Sister continued toward the burn pile.
The Cowboy watched her.
The Fiancée followed his gaze.
“My goodness.”
She frowned.
“She stayed?”
“Four days.”
Her expression shifted.
Not jealousy.
Embarrassment.
“She didn’t tell me she was coming.”
“No.”
“That was reckless.”
“Yes.”
The Cowboy looked at her.
“Very.”
His tone made the Fiancée uncomfortable.
She changed the subject.
Within an hour, the Younger Sister prepared to leave.
The Cowboy found her beside the horse she had borrowed.
“You can stay.”
She tightened the saddle strap.
“Why?”
The question caught him.
He had reasons.
Rest.
Food.
Dangerous roads.
None explained the immediate discomfort he felt at seeing her leave.
“Your horse needs another day.”
“It isn’t my horse.”
“Exactly. You can’t abuse borrowed property.”
She smiled.
“I’ll walk.”
“You absolutely will not.”
“Then I suppose you’ll have to lend me one.”
He stared.
She smiled again.
The Cowboy realized she had learned how to provoke him.
He liked it.
That was dangerous.
He saddled his gentlest mare.
“Bring her back whenever.”
“I will.”
The Younger Sister placed one foot in the stirrup.
Stopped.
“Thank you.”
“For the horse?”
“For not making me feel in the way.”
The Cowboy’s chest tightened.
“You were never in the way.”
She looked at him.
For one second the world felt dangerously quiet.
Then she mounted.
He watched until she disappeared beyond the cottonwoods.
The ranch seemed different afterward.
Not worse.
Empty.
The Cowboy began noticing absences.
Coffee tasted wrong.
The kitchen stayed too quiet.
Nobody laughed when he swore at a stubborn gate.
When he saw sea-blue fabric in town, he turned automatically.
When the Whitmore carriage arrived, he looked behind his Fiancée before he looked at her.
Sometimes the Younger Sister came.
Sometimes she did not.
On the days she did, the Cowboy found reasons to be near the house.
That fact annoyed him.
He was engaged.
More than engaged.
The wedding was scheduled for June.
Invitations had been printed.
A minister booked.
Cattle contracts were being rewritten to anticipate combined land use.
His future had structure.
The Younger Sister threatened all of it merely by standing quietly beside a kitchen counter.
So the Cowboy avoided her.
For twelve days.
Then he realized avoidance required thinking about her constantly.
That was worse.
One afternoon, he visited the Whitmore ranch to discuss irrigation rights.
Their father took him into the office.
The Younger Sister passed the open doorway carrying folded linens.