She had no idea if Thomas was actually following through. She tried not to think about it too much because thinking about it made her angry, and anger was exhausting. The ranch hands had stopped testing her and started actively trying to help. They brought her fresh eggs from the chicken coop without being asked. They made sure the wood pile for the stove never ran low.
They even organized themselves into shifts for cleaning up after meals, which had definitely not been happening under Cookie's tenure. "You've got them trained," Holloway observed one afternoon, watching the men actually scrape their plates and stack them properly. "I just treat them like human beings," Evelyn said. "Turns out that works." Revolutionary concept.
She was starting to understand the rhythm of ranch life. The early mornings when the world was still dark and quiet, the midday heat that made everything shimmer, the evenings when the men would sit on the bunkhouse porch smoking and telling stories until the stars came out. It was harsh and isolated, but there was an honesty to it that Red Hollow had never had. Then Sarah Mitchell came to visit and everything got complicated. She arrived on a Tuesday afternoon in a fancy buggy driven by her father, who owned the largest general store in Red Hollow.
Sarah was everything Evelyn wasn't: polished, pretty, dressed in clothes that cost more than Evelyn made in 3 months. And she was there specifically to see Dawson Ridgewell. Evelyn was in the bunkhouse kitchen when she heard the commotion in the yard. Through the window, she watched Sarah step down from the buggy like she was descending from a throne, one gloved hand accepting Ridgewell's assistance with practiced grace. "Well, that's interesting," Billy said, appearing at Evelyn's elbow and making her jump.
"Don't often get visitors out here, especially not ones that fancy." "Who is she?" "Sarah Mitchell. Her daddy's trying to marry her off to Mr. Ridgewell. Been after him for months."
Evelyn turned back to her bread dough, punching it down harder than necessary. "That's none of my business." "Maybe not, but it's good gossip. She's been out here three times now. Brings fancy food from town like our cooking isn't good enough."
"Our cooking?" Billy grinned. "Your cooking, I mean. She brings these little sandwiches and cakes and acts like she's doing us all a favor." Evelyn watched through the window as Ridgewell led Sarah and her father toward the main house.
The woman moved with confidence like she belonged there already. "Does Mr. Ridgewell seem interested?" The question was out before Evelyn could stop it. "Hard to say. Boss keeps his cards close, but he hasn't sent her away yet."
Billy leaned against the counter. "Why you jealous?" "Don't be ridiculous. I'm just saying you got competition for the boss's attention." Evelyn whirled on him.
"I'm the cook. I don't want anyone's attention. I want to do my job and get paid. That's it." "Sure, sure."
But Billy was still grinning when he left. Evelyn tried to focus on her work, but her eyes kept drifting to the main house. She told herself she didn't care who Ridgewell courted or married. It was his life and his business, but something uncomfortable was churning in her stomach anyway. That evening, Mrs. Chen appeared in the kitchen looking tired and irritated.
"The Mitchell woman is staying for dinner," she announced. "Mr. Ridgewell has requested that you prepare something special for the main house." "What kind of special?" "He didn't specify, just something impressive." Mrs. Chen's expression suggested what she thought of this request.