A good one, she says. It shows. He steps back and looks at the whole structure. You're going to need help raising the wall plates when you get there. That's a twoperson job at minimum.
She has already calculated this. I know. I can send two men over, he says. When you're ready. She looks at him for a long moment.
He meets her eyes without discomfort, which is not nothing. A lot of men cannot meet her eyes directly for reasons she has cataloged across a lifetime. Her size, her directness, or simply the unease of men who do not know how to treat a woman as a conversational equal. What do you want in return? She says he seems slightly surprised by the directness, but not offended.
Nothing, Mr. Caldwell. Men who run this much mountain country do not offer labor for nothing. He is quiet for a moment. You're right that I have interest here.
You're a new landowner on a claim that borders mine. I'd rather know what kind of neighbor you're going to be than find out later. And if you don't like what you find, then at least I know. I'm not going to run you off your claim. Your husband registered it legally.
It's yours. She holds the ads across her thighs and looks at him. He looks back. There is something in his expression she cannot read yet. Something underneath the practicality.
Something careful. Tell me exactly what you mean by help, she says. Exactly. He tells her. Two men for the wall plate work.
One day, maybe two. They work for her while they are there. They follow her directions. No claim on the land. No debt, no expectation.