Then one Thursday morning in September, he arrived before Rebecca had opened. She was carrying a bucket of wash water when his horse stopped outside.” You're early. “” So are you. I own the stove. “He dismounted. I need to ask you something.
Rebecca looked at him over the bucket. You always seem to arrive with those words. We've got 12 men coming tomorrow to help move cattle from the eastern pasture. Franklin wants them fed before they ride home. How many meals?
Two. Noon and supper. She considered her orders for the week. I can do it. Everett nodded.
Same arrangement as branding. My price goes up if Owen insults me again. He's been practicing silence. Then perhaps he's trainable. Everett's smile appeared briefly.
The following morning, Rebecca rode out with Harvey's wagon carrying flour, onions, dried beans, two smoked beef rounds, coffee, potatoes, and a crate of late apples she'd bought from a farmer south of town. Hail Creek looked different now. The grass had lost some of its summer gold. Cottonwood leaves showed yellow along their edges, and the Wind River Mountains stood sharp beneath the sky washed clean by several cool days. Rebecca had expected the ranch to feel familiar.
Instead, something felt wrong before she had been there an hour. She noticed it while filling a stockpot. The pump took more strokes than before. At first, she blamed the leather seal. Then she carried a bucket toward the outdoor kitchen and saw a dark line inside it where the water should have reached.
Franklin. The foreman turned. Pump acting poorly? No. Rebecca looked toward Hail Creek beyond the corral.
Is the well low? Franklin's face tightened. Some How long? Couple days. Before she could ask more, three riders came through the eastern gate.
Everett was among them. The cattle behind the riders moved badly, packed close instead of spreading naturally. Several pushed toward the trough before the gate was fully open. Everett dismounted.” Keep them off that trough until the second bunch is through, “he told Owen.” They'll knock the rail apart. “Rebecca watched him cross the yard.
His shirt was dark between the shoulders. Trouble creeks low east of the cottonwood bend. How low? Too low. He reached for the dipper beside the water barrel.
Rebecca caught his wrist. Everett looked down at her hand. She released him. Not that one. She filled a clean tin cup from the bucket she had drawn earlier.
He drank. Rebecca took the cup back, dipped a finger into the remaining water, and touched it to her tongue. Everett watched her. What? Tastes different.
Different how? Sharper. Franklin had come closer. Rebecca looked at him. Has anybody checked upstream?
Everett rode the eastern stretch this morning. Everett nodded toward the hills. Nothing obvious on our land. Rebecca looked at the sky. When did it last rain?
Monday. And it's been cool since. Yes. She glanced toward the creek again. Water doesn't disappear overnight because the weather forgot to be hot.