I only know what I've heard. Rebecca stopped. Claudia stood near the counter with two women from town. One day she's selling meals from a shed, Claudia continued. And the next she's spending nights up in the mountains with Everett Hail and advising him how to run his land.
One woman murmured something. Claudia lowered her voice. People say she means to work her way right into the Hail House. Rebecca stepped around the shelf. Then people are working harder on my future than I am.
The women went silent. Claudia turned. Her expression barely changed. Rebecca. Claudia.
Rebecca placed the lamp oil on the counter. The shopkeeper suddenly became fascinated with his receipt book. Claudia adjusted one glove. I certainly wasn't accusing you of anything. No, you were letting unnamed people do it for you.
A flush rose along Claudia's throat. I only think Everett ought to be careful. Edwin says this water business could cost him dearly. Then Edwin should stop taking water that isn't his. One of the women drew a breath.
Claudia's eyes hardened. You see, that's exactly what people mean. You've been here a few months and already you're speaking as though Hail Creek belongs to you. Rebecca paid for the oil. Her coins struck the counter one at a time.
Hail Creek doesn't belong to me. She picked up the bottle and Everett Hail doesn't belong to anybody. Rebecca walked out. She kept her pace steady until she reached the shed. Only then did she realize how tightly she was holding the bottle.
Harvey stood beside his forge. You all right? Perfectly. Harvey looked toward the store. That's usually how people say it when they aren't.
Rebecca unlocked her door. I have onions to cut. Harvey wisely returned to his anvil. The rumors did not stop. They became more polished.
By Saturday, Rebecca had supposedly convinced Everett that Mercer was stealing water. By Monday, she had apparently been promised part of Hail Creek Ranch. By Tuesday, someone had added that she was staying nights in Everett's house. That lie almost made her laugh. Almost.
Then customers began disappearing. Not all, enough. Rebecca counted the coins beneath her floorboard Tuesday night, then counted them again. She could survive a poor week, perhaps two. After that, she would have decisions to make.
The knock came after sunset Wednesday. Rebecca was cleaning the stove. She opened the door. Edwin Mercer stood outside. He had removed his hat.
Miss Foster. Mr. Mercer, may I come in? No. His eyes moved past her toward the empty tables.
Then I'll be brief. He took an envelope from his coat. Rebecca did not accept it. What is that? An offer for what?