Dark eyes set beneath a straight brow. He wore working clothes, nothing notable, worn canvas trousers, a collarless shirt with the sleeves rolled past the elbow, scuffed boots that had seen serious mileage. His hat was plain brown felt, pushed back the same half inch that Ethan wore his. Though somehow on this man the gesture looked entirely different, less charming, more like he just needed to see clearly. Clara had seen him before, she realized the horse training operation out at the Miller property east of town.
She'd had no reason to speak to him. She had no idea what he was doing standing beside her. "Now you—" she started. I brought your father's coat, he said without looking at her, his eyes tracking across the street in a way that was entirely deliberate. The one you sent for mending.
Dropped it off early. Figured you were already open. He had not brought any coat. There was no coat. Clara stared at his profile for a fraction of a second.
The easy set of his jaw, the absolute stillness in his face, and understood that this man was telling a lie so smoothly it barely qualified as one. That he had seen what she was standing in the middle of and had chosen for reasons that were entirely his own to walk into it beside her. She turned back toward the street. Ethan was still watching them. The woman on his arm, his wife, had followed his gaze and was now studying Clara with that particular careful attention that women give each other when taking measure.
"Thank you," Clara said to the man beside her. Her voice came out steadier than it had any right to be. I wasn't sure it would be ready. Took it in a bit through the shoulders like you asked," he said. "Fits better now. " Ethan said something to his wife.
She smiled at something in his expression. Then they turned and walked down the street together, the woman's city boots clicking on the boards, and Clara watched them go until she was certain she was watching their backs and not their faces. She exhaled slowly, deliberately, she shook out the dust mat. Once, twice, set it back in front of the door, turned around. The man was still there.
"I don't know your name," she said. "Ryder Kain. " He wasn't looking at her with pity, which was the first thing she checked for and didn't find. He looked at her with the same straightforward attention he'd given the street. "I work out at Miller's. I know.
I didn't plan to do that," he said. "I just I saw you standing there. " And he stopped, set his jaw slightly. "I don't know. Seemed like you needed someone to stand next to you. Clara looked at him for a moment.