Reed sat at the table, shoulders hunched, as though still weighing whether he had made a mistake in opening his door. The silence between them was not hostile, but it was thick, the kind that made each sound stand out. The scrape of a chair, the soft crack of the firewood shifting in the stove. Nolyn finally broke it. "You didn't ask why I was knocking on doors. " Reed lifted his eyes, slow and cautious.
"Didn't figure it was my place. " She studied him a moment. "People usually ask. They ask before they shut the door. " Reed said nothing, but the tightness in his jaw gave her the answer. He already knew the town. He knew how they looked at her, and why she hadn't found a welcome anywhere else.
"I came from the River Post," she continued, her voice level but tired. "There was a fire. Too many men drinking, too many guns. The post burned in a night. Family scattered.
I had a cousin nearby, but I lost the trail in the storm 3 days back. I walked here because I thought a town meant water and work. She let out a dry laugh that held no humor. Turns out it only meant locked doors. Reed absorbed her words in silence, his hands resting flat on the table.
Part of him wanted to ask why she hadn't kept walking, why she risked coming to a town that would never forgive her people for the wars of the past decade. But the other part of him, the heavier part, already knew the answer. When you had nowhere left to go, you stop at the first door that opened. You've been alone on the road? He asked.
3 weeks, she said. Before that I worked near the post, cooking, cleaning. It wasn't much, but I could trade for what I needed. Since the fire, I've had nothing but what I carry and $3. Her tone sharpened slightly, as if reminding him she had tried to pay her way from start.
Reed nodded slowly. He looked down at the table where the bills still lay, edges curled from wear. He thought about how many hands had likely passed them along and how it had taken her walking through half the desert just to find someone who wouldn't take them. For the first time, he let out a breath heavy with more than words. Silver Creek's not kind to strangers and less kind to your people.
You know that. I know, she answered without hesitation. Her gaze stayed on him, steady. But you opened the door. That truth sat between them, undeniable.