"Careful."
"About what?"
"That almost sounded like praise."
He looked away. "Don't get used to it."
She laughed. The sound followed him out the door. The next morning, George Baines himself rode into Holloway Basin.
He dismounted in the mud wearing city boots that had not been made for it. Matthew met him near the hitch rail. Rachel saw them from the cookhouse doorway. George held another folded paper.
"Mr. Holloway."
"Baines."
"I understand you haven't accepted the flour."
"No."
"The price won't hold."
"Good."
George blinked. Matthew continued. "Then I won't have to keep refusing it."
George glanced toward the outdoor cook fires. Several men were eating cornbread with beans before riding north. His face changed.
Not much. Enough. "I was told you were short."
"We were."
"And now?"
Matthew looked toward Rachel. She stood with a towel over one shoulder. Cornmeal dusted her apron.
He looked back at George. "Now we're not."
George's eyes followed his. For a brief second, Rachel saw something beneath his discomfort. Fear.
Not of Matthew. Of whoever had expected Holloway Basin to fail. George folded the paper.
"You may regret making enemies."
Matthew's voice remained even. "I didn't make this one."
George mounted and left. Rachel watched him disappear through the ranch gate. Matthew walked toward her.
"You saw that?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"He's nervous."
"Of me?"
"No."
She glanced toward the south road. "Of Langley."
Matthew stopped beside her. The idea sat between them. Rachel lowered her voice.
"If George borrowed more than we thought, Langley may own more of his choices than he lets people see."
Matthew looked toward the empty road. "And if Langley loses control of our supplies, he loses the easiest way to make you sell."
A shout came from the fire trench. Charlie had burned the edge of a pan. Rachel turned.
"Take it off the coals!"
Charlie jumped. Matthew caught Rachel's elbow as she hurried past a muddy rut. Just a brief touch.