Caroline laughed once.
Nervous.
“This cannot be serious.”
Nathaniel looked at her.
“It is.”
Caroline stared at Lena.
“But she—”
She stopped.
Nathaniel’s eyes sharpened.
“But she what?”
Silence.
Caroline looked away.
Lena’s face burned.
She hated that she wanted Nathaniel to finish the confrontation.
Hated needing anyone to defend her.
So she spoke first.
“I haven't agreed.”
The room became quiet again.
Nathaniel looked back.
“No.”
“You haven't.”
Lena looked at the contract.
“Why would you expect me to leave town with a man I barely know because he liked one piece of bread?”
Nathaniel considered.
“I wouldn't.”
That surprised her.
He slid the paper toward her.
“Read it.”
“Ask questions.”
“Talk to the stage driver, bank, sheriff, anyone you trust.”
His voice remained level.
“If you decide no, keep the twenty dollars.”
Lena looked at the coin.
“For what?”
“The loaf.”
“You haven't taken it.”
“I intend to.”
Despite herself, she smiled.
Nathaniel saw.
It disappeared quickly.
He continued.
“My wagon leaves at two.”
Lena looked toward the snow.
“That road is terrible.”
“Yes.”
“And you want me to travel forty miles today?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“That isn't better.”
“Road bends.”
Lena shook her head.
Nathaniel put his gloves back on.
“Two o’clock.”
Then he looked toward Caroline.
“Mrs. Dunley.”
Caroline lifted her chin.
“Yes?”
Nathaniel pointed toward her lemon cake.
“How much?”
Her face brightened instantly.
“Three dollars.”
He placed three silver dollars beside it.
Caroline’s smile returned.
Then he said:
“Send it to the schoolhouse.”
Her smile faded.
“The children will like the sugar.”
Nathaniel turned.
Caroline stared after him.
He walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
Looked over his shoulder at Lena.
“Your bread needs more salt.”
She frowned.
“That is insulting.”
He smiled fully for the first time.
“Two o’clock.”
The door opened.
Snow swallowed him.
Then he was gone.
For three seconds nobody moved.
Afterward, everyone spoke at once.
Lena stared at the contract.
Six hundred dollars.
Caroline stepped closer.
“You aren't actually considering this.”
Lena looked up.
“Why?”
Caroline gave a little laugh.
“Because Black Ridge isn't a respectable household position.”
“It isn't a household position.”
“You would cook for ranch hands.”
“Yes.”
“Men.”
“I am familiar with them.”
Someone coughed to hide laughter.
Caroline’s expression hardened.
“I mean eighty men.”
Lena folded the contract.
“Eighty people need breakfast the same as eight.”
“You would live at the ranch.”
“For three months.”
“Alone?”
“The contract says private quarters.”
Caroline looked at Lena as though trying to explain something to a child.