He could have told her about the cattle standing in mud at the eastern pools or the hearing request waiting on the commissioner's desk. He could have asked whether she believed Edwin Mercer. Instead, Everett touched two fingers to his hat. Rebecca's hand stopped on the coffee pot. He turned his horse toward Main Street.
She watched him go. Harvey came from the forge carrying tongs. You expected him to come inside? Rebecca poured coffee until the cup nearly overflowed. No.
Harvey looked at the cup. Seems your hand did. She set the pot down. The next four days passed badly. Not dramatically.
Badly in smaller ways. Everett worked later. Rebecca slept less. Hail Creek's eastern pools continued shrinking. Mercer added another wagon crew to the diversion, claiming he was improving an old irrigation cut on his own land.
The county commissioner had agreed to hear Everett's complaint, but without proof of who ordered the diversion. The dispute could become a long argument over maps and memory. Everett refused to touch the ditch until the hearing. That decision cost him. He moved 60 head west, crowding pasture he had intended to save for autumn.
Two calves weakened. The cattle lost weight. At supper, Franklin watched Everett push food around his plate. You planning to eat that? Yes.
When Everett took a bite, Franklin went back to his coffee. In Copper Ridge, Rebecca made mistakes she did not usually make. She oversalted a pot of beans, forgot a customer's change. On Thursday morning, she burned bread. Not browned, burned.
Rebecca pulled the pan from the oven and stared at the black crust. Harvey smelled it from next door. He appeared in the doorway. You sick? No.
Then somebody die? No. He pointed at the bread. Something happened. Rebecca scraped the loaves into a bucket.
I left a hot pan too long. Harvey leaned against the door frame. You look at the road every time a horse goes by. Rebecca stopped scraping. I do not.
A rider passed outside. Rebecca looked. Harvey raised his eyebrows. She threw the scraper into the wash basin. Go hammer something.
Yes, ma'am. By Friday, Rebecca had almost convinced herself she had made the sensible choice. Then Claudia Mercer came for coffee. Rebecca considered telling her there was none. Instead, she poured a cup.
Claudia placed a coin on the counter. I heard you've come back permanently. I never left permanently. You know what I mean? Rebecca wiped the counter.
Claudia stirred sugar into her coffee. Edwin says hail moved cattle off the eastern range. Rebecca's cloth stopped. He says the ranch can't carry that many animals west for long. Rebecca resumed wiping.