“I expect you will sometimes.”
“You may dislike me.”
“I expect I will sometimes.”
Emma narrowed her eyes.
“You’re not very romantic.”
“No.”
“That may be the first lie you’ve told me.”
Elias blinked.
Emma went inside before he could answer.
The next morning he arrived with a heavy farm wagon instead of the narrow spring buggy most men used in town.
Emma stopped on the boardinghouse steps.
The wagon had a wider bench.
A lower wooden step had been bolted beneath the usual foothold.
The rear springs were heavier than standard.
Emma stared.
Elias came around the horse.
“What?”
“When did you do this?”
“The bench?”
“All of it.”
“Two weeks ago.”
“Before you knew whether I would come?”
“You said you would.”
“You believed me?”
“Yes.”
Emma looked at the reinforced step.
Something painful rose behind her ribs.
Nathaniel had once invited guests to watch him struggle theatrically while pulling out a dining chair for her, as though her body were a performance he had been forced to stage.
Elias had quietly modified a wagon before meeting her.
“You could have waited.”
“Why?”
“To see how large I actually was.”
“You told me.”
“I might have exaggerated.”
“People usually exaggerate smaller.”
Emma laughed unexpectedly.
Elias’s mouth twitched.
He held out one hand.
Not to lift her.
Simply to steady her while she used the lower step.
Emma accepted.
His palm was rough.
Warm.
He did not pull.
She climbed into the wagon under her own strength.
The bench remained solid beneath her.
Elias climbed beside her.
Abigail stood on the porch holding Emma’s trunk receipt.
“I sent your trunk with the freight boy.”
Emma nodded.
“Thank you.”
Abigail pointed at Elias.
“If she comes back angry, I’m charging you double for the room.”
“Understood.”
Emma glanced at him.
“You expect me to come back?”
“I expect you to know you can.”
That sentence stayed with her all twelve miles.
Hart Ranch sat west of Mercy Bend where the land rolled gently toward Cottonwood Creek.
The house was larger than Emma expected.
Not elegant.
Two stories of weathered timber with a stone chimney, deep porch, and several additions clearly built during different decades by men who had not agreed on measurements.
A barn stood north.
Corrals to the west.
Cottonwoods marked the creek.
Beyond them spread miles of grass beneath an enormous Kansas sky.
Two ranch hands watched the wagon arrive.
One was gray-haired and thin.
The other perhaps twenty.
Neither laughed.
The older man removed his hat.
“Miss Whitaker.”
Emma looked at Elias.
He had told them.
“This is Levi Tanner,” Elias said. “Foreman.”
Levi nodded.
“And Ben Cooper.”
Ben removed his hat.
“Ma’am.”
Emma stepped down using the reinforced step.
Levi pointed toward the porch.
“Elias made us rebuild the second step.”
Elias closed his eyes.
Emma looked.
The porch had a wide, low intermediate step.
Fresh timber.
She turned slowly.
“What else?”
Levi smiled.
“I ain’t saying.”
“Levi.”
Elias’s voice carried warning.
Emma walked into the house.
The first chair beside the kitchen table was broader than the others.
New.
The spare bedroom contained a wide oak bed with thick center supports.
Also new.
The washstand had been moved to provide more room between furniture.
Emma touched the chair.
“When?”
Elias stood behind her.