Anger could be answered. Silence sat where it pleased. On Tuesday afternoon, Rachel was repairing a loose fence board near the south pasture when she heard hoofbeats. She knew the horse before she looked.
Matthew's bay gelding had a slower left step from an old shoulder injury. Rachel kept hammering. Matthew stopped near the gate.
"Afternoon."
"Afternoon."
He dismounted for once. He did not walk toward her immediately. Rachel struck the nail twice.
The board settled. Matthew removed his hat. "I wondered if you'd ride with me."
Rachel turned. "Where?"
"Crow Creek."
Her hammer lowered. "That's not a very romantic location."
Matthew's eyebrows rose. "So you know this is romantic."
Rachel looked back at the fence. "I know you aren't coming here to discuss stallions anymore."
"Fair."
She heard him shift. "I'd still like you to come."
Rachel studied the sky. Clear. Wind from the west. No sign of rain.
"Give me ten minutes."
Matthew nodded. Rachel went inside. Lillian was in the parlor sewing. She looked up when Rachel entered.
"He's here."
Rachel stopped. "Yes."
Lillian's needle passed through the cloth. "Are you going somewhere?"
"Crow Creek."
Lillian gave a small laugh without humor. "Of course."
Rachel waited. Lillian looked down at her sewing again. "Go."
There was nothing kind Rachel could say. She changed from her work coat into the better brown one, tied back her hair, and left. Matthew had brought a second horse. A gentle chestnut mare from High Mesa.
Rachel noticed. "You didn't trust my sorrel?"
"I didn't trust your father to let you take her."
That was accurate enough to make Rachel smile. They rode north in silence. The road to Crow Creek had dried considerably since winter.
Mud still filled the wagon ruts in shaded places, but green grass had begun pushing through along the banks. At the crossing, Matthew turned west instead of south. Rachel followed. A narrow trail led toward a stand of cottonwoods.
He stopped beneath them where the creek widened into a quiet bend. There was no wagon. No broken wheel. No sleet.
Only running water and the sound of cottonwood leaves beginning to stir in the light wind. Matthew dismounted. Rachel did the same. He tied the horses loosely.
For a moment, neither spoke. Rachel looked at the creek. "This is where you almost tore my wagon apart."
Matthew stood beside her. "I prefer to remember where you ordered me into freezing water."
"You were useful."
"So I've been told."
Rachel glanced at him. He was nervous. The realization was so unexpected that she almost missed it.
Matthew Hail, who could face a panicked stallion without moving, was rubbing his thumb along the edge of his hat. Once. Then again. Rachel's stomach tightened.
"Matthew."
He looked at her.
No Mr. Hail. She had not planned that. Neither had he, judging by his face. Rachel looked away first.
"What is it?"
Matthew took a breath. "I've spent most of my life knowing what needs doing."