Grant set Hannah's trunk inside the front hall. Children. Henry did not move. Molly pressed closer behind him. Grant's mouth tightened slightly.
This is Miss Pierce. She'll be helping us through Roundup. Henry glanced up. Morning. Afternoon, Hannah said.
He looked toward the sky. It ain't supper yet. Then we've both still got time to improve. Walter made a suspicious choking sound near the wagon. Henry studied Hannah.
For one second, something almost amused passed across his face. Then it vanished. Molly said nothing. Hannah did not bend down to her. Did not smile too brightly.
Did not ask about the ribbon. She merely said, "Hello, Molly." The girl's fingers closed more tightly around the blue cloth. Grant noticed. His gaze moved from Molly to Hannah. Something in his shoulders eased.
"Come inside," he said. The house was larger than Edith's boarding house, but felt emptier. A front parlor had two horsehair chairs, a cold fireplace, and a cabinet containing several books behind glass. The dining room held a long pine table marked by knife cuts and old burns. The kitchen surprised Hannah.
It was good, not elegant, useful. A cast iron range stood against the stone wall. A hand pump had been installed beside the sink. Shelves held crockery, flour tins, salt, beans, coffee, molasses, and several jars whose labels had faded beyond recognition. The room needed cleaning.
It did not need saving. That pleased her. Grant showed her a ledger of household purchases. "Price keeps the ranch books," he said. "House accounts have gotten behind." Hannah turned several pages.
The handwriting changed three times. So I see. Grant looked almost embarrassed. Children eat breakfast at 6. Supper depends on the workday.
Hands eat in the bunk house unless weather drives them in. Laundry Thursday usually. Milk cow one garden. What survived the deer? Hannah nodded.
Grant leaned one hand against the worktable. Your room's upstairs, back of the house. Door locks from inside. Hannah looked at him. He met her eyes directly.
You were hired to work here, Miss Pierce. Nothing else. The words were plain. They carried no insult. Hannah's throat tightened anyway.
Understood. Grant hesitated, then added. And another thing. From the open kitchen door came the distant hammering of a ranch hand repairing fence boards. Grant's voice stayed quiet.
Men on this place know their manners. If any forget them where you're concerned, you tell me. Hannah blinked. I can generally handle insults myself. I expect you can.
There it was again. That same answer, no challenge, no pity. But nobody insults a woman while drawing my pay or eating my beef. He put his hat back on. Supper supplies came yesterday.