Doesn't mean I'll answer." "Why'd you really stay?" Her hands stilled. "You offered me a job." "That's not what I'm asking."
Evelyn kept her eyes on his hands, focusing on the wrap, the blood, anything but his face. "Then I don't know what you're asking." "Yes, you do." She did. And she didn't have an answer.
Or rather, she had too many answers and none of them made sense. Because the truth was she'd stayed for reasons she couldn't name. Reasons that had nothing to do with the job or the pay or the roof over her head. She'd stayed because something about this place felt different. Because the brothers looked at her like she was a person instead of a problem.
Because for the first time in years, she'd woken up and not immediately started planning her escape. But saying any of that out loud would mean admitting she cared. And caring meant risk, and risk meant "I stayed because I'm tired." She said finally. "That's all."
Holden didn't believe her. She could see it in his eyes, but he didn't push. Just nodded and stood, flexing his wrapped hands experimentally. "Well, whatever the reason, I'm glad you did." He left, and Evelyn went back to her soup, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in her chest.
Two days later, everything changed. Evelyn was in town picking up supplies with Jonah. It was her first time back since the night she'd stumbled into the saloon looking for coffee and a place to collapse. The town looked different in daylight, smaller, meaner, the kind of place that survived on gossip and suspicion. The general store was crowded and the second Evelyn walked in, the conversation died.
She felt every eye in the room turn toward her, felt the weight of their judgment, their curiosity, their thinly veiled hostility. A woman standing near the counter whispered something to her companion and they both laughed. Evelyn kept her head down and moved toward the back of the store where the dry goods were kept. Jonah followed, his presence a silent wall between her and the rest of the room. "Ignore them."
He murmured. "I am. You're gripping that flour sack like you're about to use it as a weapon." She loosened her hold slightly. "Old habit."
They gathered what they needed in silence, flour, sugar, coffee, a few other essentials, and brought it to the counter. The shopkeeper, a sour-faced man in his 50s, rang up their purchases without making eye contact. "That'll be $8." He said flatly. Jonah counted out the money and slid it across the counter.
The shopkeeper took it, still not looking at them, and started wrapping their goods in brown paper. That's when the woman from earlier approached. She was middle-aged, dressed in a faded calico dress with a face that looked like it had been carved from stone. "So, you're the one." She said, addressing Evelyn directly.
Evelyn didn't respond. "The woman living out at the Vail Ranch with six men. All alone." Still, Evelyn said nothing. The woman's lip curled.