"You."
He considered that. "I've been called worse."
Lillian brought coffee. She stayed. That changed things.
Until then, Rachel had allowed herself to believe Matthew's visits were about horses because believing otherwise felt like touching a hot stove to see if it was still hot. Lillian removed that excuse. She began joining them whenever Matthew came. At first, she was subtle.
She asked about High Mesa. How many cattle did he run? Did the mountain road become dangerous in spring? Was the main house really built of stone?
Matthew answered politely. Rachel found reasons to leave. Then Lillian became less subtle. One Sunday, she asked Matthew if he might escort her home after church because George intended to stay in town.
Matthew glanced toward Rachel. "Rachel going back too?"
Lillian's mouth tightened. "Yes."
"Then I'll see both of you home."
Rachel refused before Lillian could. "I've got the wagon."
Matthew looked at her. "I know."
"Then there's no reason."
"There's mud past Miller's Bend."
"I've driven mud before."
A pause. Matthew nodded. "All right."
Lillian accepted his arm. Rachel climbed onto the wagon alone. On the road home, she told herself this was better.
This was familiar. A man noticed Lillian. A man chose Lillian. The world remained in its proper order.
Except Matthew rode beside the wagon half the way, leaving Lillian seated behind George's borrowed mare, and asked Rachel whether she had ever seen a black stallion throw a chestnut foal. Rachel answered before remembering she was trying not to. By March, Cedar Ridge had noticed, or at least it thought it had. Mrs. Cooper asked Lillian after church whether she expected to become mistress of High Mesa before supper.
Lillian blushed. George heard about it before supper. He spent the evening humming. Rachel spent the evening in the barn.
She was rubbing liniment into the gray stallion's shoulder when Lillian entered. "You could at least be pleased for me."
Rachel kept working. "For what?"
"You know what."
"No, I don't."
Lillian crossed her arms. "Matthew."
Rachel's hands stopped. "What about him?"
"Everyone knows why he keeps coming."
Rachel resumed rubbing the horse. "Do they?"
"You don't have to sound like that."
"Like what?"
"As if I'm stealing something."
Rachel turned. The stallion shifted behind her. For a moment, neither sister spoke.
Rachel wiped her hands on a rag. "I didn't say you were."
"You didn't have to."
"I haven't asked him for anything."
"Neither have I."
Rachel looked at her. That was probably true. Lillian rarely needed to ask. Rachel turned back to the horse.
"Then there isn't a problem."
But the next time Matthew came, Rachel made herself scarce. She spent an hour in the lower pasture checking fence wire that did not need checking. When she saw him at church, she left through the side door.
When he appeared at the feed store, she became deeply interested in a receipt she had already read twice. It worked for almost a week. Then Matthew caught her behind the Hart barn. She was carrying two empty grain sacks when she turned the corner and nearly walked into his chest.
She stopped. He stepped back immediately. "Sorry."