He held his tin bowl.
“Still got any?”
Abigail stared.
“You want it?”
He shrugged.
“Tasted good before attempted felony.”
A few men laughed.
Another cowboy stepped forward with his bowl.
“Warm mine.”
Then another.
Soon the line reformed.
Abigail looked toward Caleb.
He leaned against the post.
“You heard them.”
She lifted the ladle.
“Then get in line.”
His eyebrows rose.
“Foreman privilege?”
“No.”
“Protection?”
“No.”
“Charm?”
“Especially no.”
Caleb smiled.
Then went to the back of the line.
Abigail served every man.
The stew disappeared.
Completely.
Wyatt’s untouched bowl was the only one left.
Amos set his empty tin on the table.
“Thornton.”
“Yes?”
“I owe you something.”
She waited.
He looked slightly embarrassed.
“I laughed.”
“So did everyone.”
“I laughed first.”
“Caleb laughed first.”
Amos looked toward the foreman.
“True.”
Several men murmured agreement.
Caleb put one hand over his heart.
“I’m wounded.”
Abigail handed him the last bowl.
“You should be.”
He took a bite.
His teasing expression vanished.
He chewed slowly.
Abigail watched despite herself.
“Well?”
Caleb looked at her.
“You really want the truth?”
“Yes.”
He took another bite.
“This may be the best thing I’ve eaten in two years.”
The men around him shouted agreement.
Abigail felt something painful and wonderful rise in her chest.
Recognition.
Earned.
Not pity.
Not surprise disguised as praise.
Caleb stepped closer.
“Still planning to walk to town?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He ate another spoonful.
“I’d have had to stop you.”
Abigail folded her arms.
“You would’ve tried.”
“I would’ve succeeded.”
“You’re very confident.”
Caleb’s eyes moved over her face.
“Yes.”
That look again.
The yard had emptied gradually.
Lanterns glowed.
Cowboys carried bowls toward the wash barrels.
Horses settled.
The heat eased.
Abigail began scrubbing the pot.
Caleb stayed.
Of course he did.
She glanced over.
“You have nowhere else to be?”
“No.”
“That seems unlikely.”
“Maybe I chose where I want to be.”
Abigail focused on the pot.
Dangerous sentence.
She scrubbed harder.
Caleb stepped closer.
“Abigail.”
“Yes?”