My father had a farm. I'm not afraid of hard work. And I'm not going to pretend I don't know what I'm doing when I do. You're straightforward.
I find it saves time. He looked at her then. Really looked at her the way he hadn't yet. Not measuring her, not the way Briggs had, but with something more like plain attention, trying to figure out what he was actually seeing.
The notice was real, he said. Briggs was wrong to turn you away. I told him to fill it if someone came who could do the work. He rubbed one hand across his face.
I haven't been He stopped again. Chose different words. Things have been hard to manage. I can see that.
That's not an accusation against you, she said because she could see his jaw tighten. It's just a fact. You've been keeping a baby alive alone and running a ranch and you're running on nothing. That's not weakness.
That's just one man doing too many things with too few hours. Nathan looked at her for a moment longer than was comfortable and then looked back at his son. Briggs won't like it, he said. I expect not.
The men might be difficult. Men usually are when they haven't decided yet whether to respect someone. She said it without heat. I can manage difficult.
He was quiet for a long time. She could hear the wind picking up outside in the distant sound of one of the horses doing something in the corral and the quiet even breathing of a baby who had at least for the moment turned a corner. There's a room at the back of the house. Nathan said it's small.
Used to be a store room. There's a cot in there that needs the mattress aired out. He stood up. He was taller than she'd estimated.
Wages are $12 a month and board if that's agreeable. That's agreeable. He nodded once. He moved to the door and then stopped without turning around.
Thank you, he said for Caleb. Evelyn looked at the baby sleeping in the crib. That small flushed face that had lost a little of its terrible heat. Those small hands that had finally unclenched in sleep.