I've cooked for working men before, she said. You feed them badly, they slow down. You feed them nothing, they leave. He folded the list and put it in his coat. I'll go to town Thursday.
I'd like to come, she said to make sure what's purchased is what I actually need rather than what someone thinks is similar. A pause. Fine. She walked back to the house. Behind her, she heard him say something quiet to the horse in the stall in a tone he hadn't used with her or apparently anyone else. and she filed that away, too.
A man who talked gently to sick animals was not entirely a closed door. The trip to Red Hollow took them nearly 2 hours by wagon across frozen ground that rattled the wheels and made conversation impractical, which suited both of them fine. The was small, a main street with a general store, a livery, a saloon, a land office, and a scattering of buildings that had the unfinished look of a place still deciding whether to stay. the kind of place where everyone knew who you were after two weeks and had opinions about you by the third. The general store was was run by a broad man, Hemp Harker, who greeted Gideon by name and assessed Rosalie with the sideways look of someone who hadn't been introduced but intended to form a view anyway. Rosalie moved through the store methodically, checking her list against the shelves.
This asking Harker where items were kept, comparing quality where there was a choice. She was debating between two grades of cornmeal when she heard it. Not loud, barely more than a murmur from near the back of the store where two ken she didn't know were talking to Harker in the particular low voice people use when they want to be heard by their target without technically addressing them. Brought her from Cheyenne. One of them said heard she was let go from the Grand Hotel.
Harker, you know why they let someone go from a hotel kitchen? Harker made a non-committal sound. Stealing. the man said. That's the word from Cheyenne. Gideonss put a thief in his house.
Rosalie did not turn around. Her hands were perfectly steady. She had had two weeks to decide how she was going to handle moments like this one. She had always known it would happen cuz Parish's story had spread the way these things always spread. Like something carried on the wind that you couldn't stop and couldn't outrun.
She finished evaluating the cornmeal. She chose the better grade. She put it in the crate she was building and moved to the next item on her list. What she couldn't control was whether Gideon had heard. She found out 20 minutes later when she brought the full crate to the counter, and Harker started tallying it up.
Gideon was standing to one side, and the two men from the back of the store had moved closer in the way that trouble moves when it thinks it's being invited. The heavier of the two, a man with a reddish beard, who smelled of the saloon next door, even at this hour, addressed Gideon directly. "You hear what I said, Rusk, about your cook? " Gideon looked at him. The look was not aggressive. It was something colder.
I heard you, he said, "And it's none of your affair what I do at Blackthornne Ranch. " He looked back at Harker. Add it up. Red Beard wasn't finished. A man's business becomes the town's business when he lets a known thief handle his food. Your hands talk, Rusk.
People are wondering about your judgment. The store went quiet in the way small spaces go quiet when they're waiting for something to happen. Gideon did not raise his voice. What's your name? He said to Redbeard.
The man blinked. Colton. Gideon turned fully to face him. You got proof of what you're saying. It's what people are.
Proof, Gideon said again. Yes or no? Colton's jaw worked. Word from Cheyenne. Word from Cheyenne is not proof.
Gideon picked up the crate. He looked at Harker. I'll be back for the flower sacks. He looked at Rosalie once briefly and headed for the door. Rosalie paid for the smaller items, pocketed the change, and followed him out.
They loaded the wagon without speaking. When they were on the road back to Blackthornne, the settlement shrinking behind them, she said, "You didn't have to do that. I know. It's going to make things more complicated for you in town. Things are already complicated. " he says and clicked the horse forward and that was the end of that conversation.
But something had shifted, something small, and Rosalie was careful not to make too much of it, but it was there. 3 days later, snow began. Not the cautious early winter snow that comes in polite increments and gives people time to prepare. This was Wyoming deciding to get serious. By the second morning, it was coming sideways and the temperature had dropped to the kind of number that made everything outside the house dangerous and everything inside the house feel not quite warm enough.
The ranch hands were managing cattle that didn't want to be managed. Gideon was outside most of every day. The boys were trapped indoors, which meant Emtt's disappearing act had to work within the constraints of a house, and Jaimes orbit around Rosalie had tightened considerably. He started talking, not about anything weighty. At first, he wanted to know how bread rose, why beans needed soaking, what the difference was between the two kinds of fat she kept in separate tins.
She answered each question with the same matterof fact directness she'd use with any adult who asked, which seemed to be exactly what he needed because the questions kept coming. What's this called? He asked one afternoon, pointing at the sourdough starter in its croc. A starter. It's alive yeast and bacteria.