“Rebecca looked at the small cabin. Elias had already offered, but there was barely room for one bed and a table. Isn't there a line shack south of here? Everett nodded. Two miles roof.
Last time I saw it. That reassuring? No. They rode anyway. Halfway there, Rebecca regretted the decision.
Rain drove sideways beneath her hatbrim. Her skirt grew heavy against the saddle, and the trail became a ribbon of mud between black pines. Everett rode ahead where the path narrowed. At every wash out, he slowed. Once when Rebecca's mare slipped, his hand shot toward her res.
He stopped before touching them.” You all right? “” Yes, “he nodded. They kept moving. The line shack appeared through the rain like something forgotten by the mountains. One room, a leaning chimney, a narrow porch with half its boards missing. Everett pushed the door open.
Luxury. Rebecca stepped inside. One man's luxury is another woman's tetanus. He looked at her. Tetanus?
Something my mother used to say about rusty nails. Your mother had strong opinions about accommodations. She had strong opinions about nearly everything. The roof leaked in two places, but the stove drew once Everett cleared the old ash. Rebecca found a stack of split pine beneath a canvas sheet.
Soon, a small fire snapped inside the iron box. They removed their wet outer coats. Rebecca's sleeves clung to her arms. Everett's shirt was soaked across his chest and shoulders. He looked around.
One blanket. Rebecca followed his eyes. A folded wool blanket lay on the bunk. You take it. No, you're colder.
How do you know? Your hands are shaking. Rebecca looked down. They were. So are yours.
Mine are bigger. Harder to notice. She gave him a tired look. Everett handed her the blanket. Rebecca.
There was no point arguing with that tone. She wrapped it around her shoulders. Everett sat against the opposite wall beside the stove, knees raised because there was no other way to fit his legs comfortably in the small room. Rain hammered the roof. For a while, they listened.
Rebecca found two tin cups on a shelf. She rinsed them with water from her canteen and poured the last of the coffee she had brought from the ranch. Cold coffee. Neither complained. Everett drank his in two swallows.
Rebecca watched him. What? You always do that. Do what? Drink coffee like somebody's going to take it away.
He looked at the empty cup. Never noticed. I did. A pause. You notice a lot.