Finally, Grant looked away first. She wrapped his shoulder as securely as she could without restricting his breathing. By then, the house had gone quiet. Henry had returned to the corral after Grant ordered him to. Molly sat upstairs.
Walter had gone back to the men. Grant looked toward the front window. I made a damned spectacle of myself. Hannah tied the cloth. You were hit by a steer.
I should have seen him turn. You were pushing Walter out of the way. Grant did not answer. Hannah began gathering the towels. After a moment, he said, "Took four men and two fence poles to get me off the ground." His voice had changed.
Not joking now. He flexed the fingers of his injured arm. A man my size is difficult when something goes wrong. Hannah stopped. The room held only the ticking of the mantel clock and distant cattle noise drifting through the window.
She turned toward him. Heavy isn't the same as difficult, Mr. Dalton. Grant's eyes lifted. Hannah folded the damp cloth.
Folks ought to know the difference. For several seconds, neither moved. Grant looked at her in a way he never had before. Not at her apron, not at the work in her hands. At her.
Hannah suddenly remembered every chair she had tested before sitting down in public. Every wagon bench she had entered carefully, every store aisle where she had turned sideways so nobody could make a joke. And looking at Grant, she understood something she had never considered. A man his size knew too. Not the same jokes, not the same shame, but the same awareness.
Doorframes, furniture, people stepping aside, children staring. Men expecting strength every hour simply because his body promised it. Grant lowered his gaze to his enormous hands. When I was 15, he said, "I knocked a boy down in school." Hannah waited. Didn't mean to.
He shoved me. I shoved back. His thumb rubbed slowly across one knuckle, broke his arm. Hannah said nothing. After that, my father taught me something.
What? If you're twice the size, you better have twice the restraint. Outside, someone shouted near the corral. Grant continued quietly. People get nervous around a big man who forgets himself.
Hannah looked at the careful way he sat. The low voice, the measured movements, the way he had never once crowded her despite being large enough to dominate any room simply by entering it. She understood. You spend a lot of time trying not to frighten people. His eyes came back to hers.
And you spend a lot of time pretending not to notice when people judge you. The answer landed cleanly. Hannah's fingers tightened around the towels. Grant seemed to regret saying it. I didn't mean no.
She shook her head. It's fair. A silence settled. Not comfortable. Not uncomfortable either.
Something else. Grant leaned his head back against the chair. Hannah moved toward the doorway. Hannah. She stopped.
He had never called her that. Not Miss Pierce, Hannah. Grant appeared to realize it, too. Neither corrected him. Thank you, he said.