She may write to me, Adella said. I will answer. And Aunt Clara. I will send money for hired help if she truly needs it. I will not move into her house because everyone has decided an unmarried daughter is cheaper than a servant.
Barnaby winced at the bluntness, but he did not call her cruel. You were always hard to move once you planted your feet. Perhaps everyone kept trying to move me. By noon, Barnaby's was tied down. Adella hugged him beside the wagon.
He held on an extra second, then climbed to the seat. "Write, mother, before I reach PBLO," he said. "I will." Barnaby looked once at Wilbur. "Do not make me sorry I left her here."
Wilbur shook his head. "That is not a promise I can make for her." Barnaby almost smiled despite himself. "You learned something, at least." Then he drove out through the gate.
The yard seemed larger without the wagon in it. Adella stood beside Wilbur, close enough that he could have touched her, and far enough that he knew he should not. Ending the lie had removed the easiest reason for her to remain under his roof. I am going to move to Mrs. Miller's tomorrow, she said. Two miles down the valley.
Yes, she has a front room and will take board from my wages. Wilbur nodded once. I can haul your book chest. I would appreciate that. The offer ends there.
I know. The next morning, he hauled her carpet bag and book chest to Mrs. Miller's. He carried nothing past the bedroom door until Adella told him where she wanted it, then drove back to a ranch that looked unchanged and felt different in every room. For the next two weeks, Adella rode in each morning on her gentle sorrel mare. By the second week, white frost silvered the hitch rail before sunrise, and the wind off the high ground reened Adela's cheeks during the two-mile ride.
Nothing about the road was dangerous. The cold simply made the distance between Mrs. Miller's house and Wilbur's porch feel longer than 2 mi had any right to feel. Every arrival made Wilbur aware that she had chosen the road back. Every departure reminded him she could choose the opposite the next day. That difference changed the whole sound of the ranch.
She tied her mare at the rail, rang the brass handbell, taught through the afternoon, and rode back to Mrs. Millers before supper, unless she had been plainly invited to stay. The arrangement worked. That was the trouble. The ranch kept working. The children were fed, chores were done, and Wilbur's hands stayed on ranch work.
Nobody needed Adela to sleep under his roof in order to survive. But at sunset, Wilbur stood at the porch rail and called 10 names into the evening air. Every child answered. Some evenings Ruthie glanced toward the road after answering. Once Toby waited after the 10th name before remembering there was no second adult voice beside Wilbur.
Wilbur began timing his last stock check, so he returned before Adella mounted for home, an excuse he stopped believing on clear evenings when the road was dry. One Thursday, Adella remained after dismissing the children. Wilbur found her in the west room with a sheet of figures on the teacher's table. I spoke with Merritt," she said. Wilbur leaned against the doorframe, but did not enter until she nodded him in.