You own Hail Creek Ranch. I do. You might have mentioned that. You never asked. She stared at him.
He seemed to consider his answer. That sounded better before I said it. It certainly did. A quiet moment passed. Then Everett stepped inside, keeping enough distance between them that Rebecca did not feel crowded.
I wasn't hiding it. What were you doing? Eating lunch. The answer was so plain she believed him. Everett rubbed a thumb along the brim of his hat.
People act different once they know what a man owns. Rebecca looked at him. And you wanted to know if I would. His gaze settled on hers. Maybe.
Rebecca let the broom rest against the wall. Well, Everett waited. Am I acting different? His eyes moved over her face. No.
Then sit down. He blinked. Why? Rebecca reached for the coffee pot. Because you rode 6 miles after supper time, and I'm guessing you didn't come for fence staples.
The slow smile returned. Everett lowered himself onto the same battered feed crate he had used before she knew he owned Half a Valley. Rebecca poured two mugs of coffee, and for the first time she sat down across from him. Everett wrapped one hand around the chipped mug. For a while, neither spoke.
The forge next door had gone quiet. Evening settled over Copper Ridge, turning the wagon ruts outside dark blue beneath the last light. Somewhere down Main Street, a piano started up behind the swinging doors of the Silverbell Saloon. Rebecca took a sip. So, what brings the owner of Hail Creek Ranch 6 miles out of his way after supper?
Everett looked into his coffee. Work for you or me? You. Rebecca set down her mug. That Saturday, Everett explained, Hail Creek would begin its annual branding.
Neighboring outfits would send riders to help. Nearly 40 men might pass through the ranch over two days. The cook Everett had hired had broken his leg stepping from a freight wagon in Lander. I need someone who can feed them. Rebecca looked at him.
You need someone who can feed 40 working men outdoors for 2 days? Yes. With 3 days notice? Yes. Over open fires.
Mostly. She leaned back. You make poor situations sound very reasonable. I've been told that. Rebecca reached for a scrap of paper.
How much? He named a figure. Her pencil stopped. It was enough to cover several months of rent on Harvey's shed with money left for supplies. Rebecca studied Everett.
You offering that because you need someone quickly? I'm offering it because the job is worth it and I choose the food. Yes, I choose quantities. Yes. If your men complain about what's served, they can cook their own supper.
Everett's mouth shifted. I'll make sure they understand and I'm paid when the work is finished. I can pay half now. No. He raised an eyebrow.