Silas felt something swell in his chest that might have been pride or might have been something deeper. Tom looked at his friends for support and found none. Finally, he nodded once, sharp and begrudging. Afternoon then, and I suppose I spoke hastily earlier about the bull. It wasn't an apology, not really, but it was as close as men like Tom Hutchkins got to admitting fault.
They returned to Silas's ranch with thunder trailing contentedly behind the wagon. Once the bull was secured in a reinforced section of fence that Silas now realized probably needed work itself, Norah started gathering tools and materials for the afternoon's repairs. You didn't have to do that, Silas said as they worked. Defend me, I mean, or offer to help Tom after he insulted us both. Yes, I did, Norah replied, testing the weight of a post hole digger.
Not because you needed defending. You handled yourself fine, but because people like Tom need to learn that being wrong isn't the end of the world, and accepting help from unexpected sources isn't weakness. He called you a giantess. He did. She agreed calmly.
Pete did actually. Tom just thought it. But I've been called worse by better people, Silas. Words only have the power you give them. Doesn't it hurt?
She paused, considering. Of course it hurts every time. But I can either spend my life hurt by what people say, or I can spend it proving them wrong by living well despite their opinions. The second option seems more productive. They loaded the wagon with tools and fresh-cut rails from Silas's stockpile.
As they worked, Silas found himself watching Norah with new appreciation. The efficient way she moved, the practical knowledge she clearly possessed about ranch work, the quiet strength that had nothing to do with muscle and everything to do with refusing to be diminished. "That story you told last night," Norah said as they worked. "About your brother, have you ever told anyone else?" The sheriff had to for the investigation.
I mean really told the way you told me with the guilt and the fear and the parts that make you feel small. Silas shook his head. Wasn't anyone to tell? And even if there was, what man wants to admit he was too cowardly to save his own brother? A man who's honest?
Norah replied. A man who understands that courage isn't the absence of fear. It's acting despite it. You froze once in a moment of terror. That doesn't define your whole life unless you let it.
Easy to say. Nothing about it is easy, she countered, but necessary things rarely are. They arrived at Tom's ranch to find him and his two friends already working on the fence, or rather arguing about how to work on it. When Norah approached and began giving clear, specific instructions, this post needed replacing entirely, that rail could be salvaged if they reinforced it here, the whole line needed to be realigned to account for the slope. The men gradually stopped arguing and started listening.