"Teach me to rope," Tom said to Reuben one afternoon with the flat confidence of a boy who decided this was owed to him. "Lucius says you're the best hand on the outfit, better even than him, though he wouldn't say why. Reuben, who hadn't taught anybody anything in years, found himself in the yard an hour later with a coil of rope and more patience than he knew he owned, guiding Tom's small hands through the motions, correcting his stance, laughing, actually laughing. A sound the ranch hadn't heard from him since before the wreck. When the boy's first proper throw looped clean around a fence post, and Tom whooped loud enough to startle the horses in the corral.
Iris watched from the kitchen window and had to turn away before either of them saw what was plainly written on her face. Mrs. Ames, the nearest neighbor, rode over in April with a basket of eggs and a mouth full of opinions. An unmarried woman living under a rancher's roof alone with all those men, she said to anyone in town who'd listen, is not a decent arrangement, whatever the circumstances. People are talking, Iris.
You ought to think of your reputation and your boys before it's too late to mend. The talk reached Reuben by way of the merkantiel clerk, and he rode to town within the hour. Jaws set, shoulder aching worse than usual from the hard ride, and found Mrs. Ames herself browsing dry goods. "Mrs.
Callen," Ruben said loud enough that half the store turned to listen, is the reason my ranch is still standing. She fed six starving men back to work when I couldn't pay a dime for it, patched up an old wound the doctor couldn't touch, and taught my hands to sit down to supper like human beings instead of animals fighting over a trough. If anyone in this town has a word to say against her, they can say it to my face instead of behind her back over a basket of eggs. Mrs. Ames went pink and found urgent business with a bolt of calico.
The talk mostly stopped after that, though Ruben rode home wondering exactly when Iris Kalan had become a woman he'd go to war over without a second thought, and what that meant for a man who'd sworn off wanting anything too much, since his shoulder taught him how quick a good thing could break. The creditor arrived in late April on a fine horse that didn't belong to a man of honest business, papers in hand, a thin smile on his face that made Iris's stomach turned to ice the moment she saw him from the kitchen window. Mrs. Kalen, your husband died owing me $60, and I mean to collect one way or another. Since you've no money, the boy will do indentured to my household till the debts worked off.