Neither did Jonah.
Before dawn, Evelyn heard hammering.
She dressed and went outside.
Jonah stood at north corral using his left hand to brace a board while holding hammer awkwardly.
“What are you doing?”
“Working.”
“You are not hired.”
“You offered position.”
“I withdrew.”
“You said forget proposal, not work.”
“I cannot pay.”
“Food.”
“That is not wage.”
“It is today.”
She approached.
His repair looked terrible.
She stared.
“Give me hammer.”
“You haven’t had coffee.”
“Give.”
He handed.
Evelyn drove nails efficiently.
Jonah held board.
Their bodies stood close.
When finished, he inspected.
“Better.”
“Obviously.”
“How long have you done this alone?”
“Two years.”
“Why no hands?”
“Money.”
“Before?”
“Father hired two.”
“After he died?”
“I sold cattle to make payments.”
Jonah’s expression darkened.
“Payments on debt already paid.”
“Yes.”
The truth struck both at once.
Evelyn looked toward herd.
“How much have I given Crowell?”
“Since Samuel died?”
“Nearly nine hundred.”
Jonah swore.
She did not correct.
Those nine hundred dollars could have repaired barn.
Bought winter hay.
Kept cattle she sold.
Fed her.
Evelyn had skipped meals to pay a debt that did not exist.
Her eyes burned.
Jonah saw.
He said quietly:
“We’ll get it back.”
Evelyn turned on him.
“Do not promise things you cannot guarantee.”
He absorbed.
“You’re right.”
That stopped her.
Most men doubled down when challenged.
Jonah did not.
“I’ll help you try.”
Better.
Evelyn looked toward mountains.
“Helena.”
“Yes.”
“Tomorrow.”
Jonah blinked.
“That fast?”
“Every day we wait gives Crowell time.”
“What about ranch?”
Evelyn thought.
Neighbor closest was Gideon Webb, sixty-seven and half-deaf, but honest.
She could ask him to feed.
Pride objected.
Necessity won.
“I’ll arrange.”
Jonah studied her.
“You were serious about doing work of three men.”
“Four some days.”
“I believe.”
She looked at him sharply.
No mockery.
That unsettled her more than praise.
Later that morning, Crowell arrived.
He came in polished black buggy with a clerk beside him.
Evelyn saw from barn.
Jonah stepped out.
She grabbed his coat.
“Stay back.”
Crowell climbed down.
He was forty-eight, clean-shaven, silver beginning at temples, dressed too finely for mud.
His eyes immediately found Jonah.
A fraction of surprise.
Then control returned.
“Miss Hart.”
Evelyn moved between.
“Mr. Crowell.”
“I came regarding notice.”
“I received.”