The creek whispered weakly around the stones behind them. Rebecca stepped closer. You told me people have been waiting your whole life for you to be nothing but your size. His eyes met hers. Mercer knows that, too.
Everett looked toward the southeast. Rebecca continued quietly. You ride into his yard angry. He gets exactly the man he's hoping for. Tomorrow, nobody remembers the ditch.
They remember Big Hail lost his temper. The name landed. She saw it. Everett's fingers tightened once around the res, then loosened. Rebecca released the bridal.
He could go now. She would not stop him twice. Everett stood beside the horse for a long time. Wind moved through the cottonwood leaves. Finally, he took his boot out of the stirrup.
Rebecca breathed again. He tied the res loosely around a branch. Then he walked back toward the diversion. What would you do? Rebecca looked at him.
What if it were yours? His anger was still there. But something else had moved in beside it. He was asking, not because he needed permission, because he wanted her judgment. Rebecca walked to the new ditch and crouched near the timber brace.
I wouldn't touch this. Everett came beside her. I'd leave every shovel mark exactly where it is, every wagon track, every piece of timber for proof. Yes. She pointed toward the muddy bank, and I'd find out who saw men hauling equipment up here.
Everett looked upstream. There are three homesteads north of the ridge. Then we start there. What about the water? Rebecca looked at the weakened creek running toward Hailand.
We get your cattle through tonight. How? Move the worst of them west. That pasture is already carrying too many. For one night, he understood.
One night, he repeated. And tomorrow you don't go to Mercer. Everett looked at her. Tomorrow we find out how long this ditch has been here. A slow breath left him.
All right. Rebecca stood. Everett offered his hand because the bank was steep. She looked at it, then took it. He pulled her up with almost no effort, but released her the moment she had her footing.
They walked back toward the horses. At the edge of the cottonwoods, Everett stopped.” Rebecca, “she turned back there. She waited. I would have gone. I know.
I would have ridden straight into his yard. I know that, too. He glanced toward the creek and you grabbed my horse. You were being unreasonable. A sound escaped him.
Not quite laughter. Close. Then his expression settled again. I've had men working for me 15 years who wouldn't have done that. Maybe they're smarter.
No. Everett looked at her with the same steady attention he'd given her across the counter in Copper Ridge. Maybe they were afraid I'd stop listening. Rebecca held his gaze. Did you?