What brought you this way? Fence staples. Rebecca looked past him. Cooper's general merchandise stood half a block in the opposite direction. Everett followed her eyes.
A silence passed between them.” Must have taken a wrong turn, “he said. Rebecca pressed her lips together. Copper Ridge can be confusing. His face remained perfectly serious. Then he put on his hat and left.
Harvey waited until Everett was out of earshot. Fence staples. Rebecca picked up Everett's plate. Don't. I didn't say anything.
You were about to. Harvey returned to his forge, grinning. Everett came back 4 days later, then again the following week. Sometimes he had a reason. A coil of rope, a replacement hinge, a meeting with a cattle buyer.
Sometimes he didn't bother offering one. He always paid exactly what she charged. He never asked for special treatment. And he asked questions. Why save that?
Rebecca looked at the jar of bacon drippings. Because throwing away good fat is foolish. Another day he watched her press dough with two fingers. How do you know it's ready? It tells you.
Bread talks if you listen better than you do.” He stared at the dough as though it might explain itself. Rebecca laughed before she could stop herself. Everett looked at her, not offended, almost pleased. Another afternoon, a frighter came in shaking from fatigue after two days on the road. Rebecca fed him before three men who had arrived first.
Everett noticed. You changed the order. He needed food more than they did. How could you tell? He stopped complaining.
Everett looked toward the frighter. The man was bent over his plate, eating steadily. Everett nodded once. “He filed things away.” Rebecca realized that was his habit. He listened.
One Thursday morning, a delivery wagon left a 50 lb flower barrel beside the road instead of bringing it to the shed. Rebecca wrapped both arms around it. The barrel moved perhaps an inch. Stubborn thing. A shadow fell across her.
Everett. Without a word, he bent, gripped the barrel, and lifted it against his chest. Rebecca stared. Two men usually rolled those barrels together. Everett carried it.
Where? Inside. He started toward the back wall. No. He stopped immediately.
Rebecca pointed beside the dry shelf. Not under it. Everett changed direction. No sigh, no joke, no comment about how much easier his way would have been. He put the barrel exactly where she indicated.
Rebecca brushed flour from her hands. Thank you. You're welcome. You could have asked before picking it up. I could have.
He looked at her. Sorry. The apology was so simple that Rebecca had nothing prepared for it. All right. Everett nodded.