Eleanor laughed.
"You did."
His expression softened.
"I suppose I'd better learn what that means when the fighter disagrees with me."
She reached toward his hand.
He took it.
For a moment, they stood quietly.
Then she looked toward the stove.
"Oh, no."
Silas frowned.
"What?"
"My biscuits."
He looked toward the kitchen.
A faint smell of burning flour drifted into the room.
For one terrible second, they stared at each other.
Then both ran toward the stove.
By the time Silas opened the oven, smoke was escaping around the door.
He pulled out the pan.
Examined the biscuits.
Then looked toward Eleanor.
She closed her eyes.
"Don't say it."
Silas smiled.
"Another fence repair?"
She grabbed a towel.
He began laughing.
And before long, so did she.
The cow recovered.
A hoof injury had caused the pain, and the stockman recommended rest and appropriate care.
The young ranch hands became considerably more cautious about pulling frightened animals through narrow gates.
Silas also changed the way he introduced Eleanor to ranch work.
Instead of assuming she understood nothing, he asked what she knew.
Then he explained what she didn't.
She listened carefully.
Sometimes made mistakes.
Sometimes asked questions the men hadn't considered.
And occasionally surprised Silas by recognizing a problem before it became obvious.
One afternoon, she noticed that a storage shed's lower wall remained damp even during dry weather.
Silas dismissed it as condensation.
She disagreed.
They examined the foundation.
A small drainage channel had become blocked.
Water was collecting beneath the wall.
Had the problem continued through winter, it might have damaged stored grain and weakened the timbers.
Silas stood beside the ditch looking impressed.
"You've got an eye for trouble."
Eleanor smiled.
"Apparently I married some."
Owen laughed so hard he nearly dropped his shovel.
Silas turned toward him.
"Mercer."
The foreman straightened.
"Yes, boss?"
"Get back to work."
But Silas was smiling.
And Eleanor, who had spent years being praised only for elegance and obedience, found unexpected happiness in being useful.
Still, ranch life was harder than she'd imagined.
Her hands developed blisters.
Her back ached.
She learned that carrying water required more balance than strength.
She discovered that chickens could become extraordinarily aggressive when guarding nests.
And she learned that a stubborn horse could recognize uncertainty faster than a Boston ballroom hostess.