That night, Nora cooked for five instead of three, and the men ate with the enthusiasm of people who'd been making do with basic rations for too long. Charlie actually teared up over her cornbread. Ma'am, you're a blessing, he declared, a pure blessing. After that, the hands appeared for every meal, and gradually, the house felt less empty. There was conversation at the table, work talk mostly, discussion of cattle prices and fence repairs, and which pastures needed rotating.
Nora listened and learned, piecing together the shape of Elias's operation. He ran about 200 head of cattle, modest by ranch standards, but enough to make a living. The land had been in his family for two generations, passed down from his father. He was respected in the area, known as a fair dealer and a hard worker, but also as a man who kept to himself. The hands were loyal, which spoke well of him.
Tommy absorbed it all with wide eyes, occasionally piping up with questions that made the men smile, and Elias's mouth twitch toward something almost like amusement. Mr. Elias, do the cows have names? No, boy. Why not?
Because there's 200 of them. I could name them. I'm good at names. I'm sure you are. That one could be Bessie, and that one could be Eat your dinner, Tommy, Nora interrupted gently, hiding her smile.
As the days passed, Nora fell into a rhythm. Rise before dawn to start breakfast. Feed the chickens while the coffee brewed. Prepare meals, clean the house, tend the garden. Wash clothes in the big copper basin behind the house and hang them in the sun.
Mend work shirts with patches on patches. Bake bread every other day, filling the house with yeast and warmth. It was hard work, but it was honest work. And for the first time since James died, Nora felt useful. Felt like she had a purpose beyond simple survival.
And every week Elias left her wages on the kitchen table, more than fair, calculated down to the penny. Nora saved every cent in a small cloth bag hidden in her room, watching it slowly grow. Her nest egg. Her ticket to somewhere else, eventually. The thought of leaving made her chest tight in a way she didn't want to examine too closely.
On the third Sunday, the day the hands took off and rode into town, Elias announced he needed to go to town for supplies. You and the boy can come if you want, he said gruffly over breakfast. Might be good for you to see the place, meet meet people. Nora hesitated. Her experiences with small-town people hadn't been positive lately.
But Tommy's eyes lit up with excitement, and she couldn't bear to disappoint him. All right, thank you. The town, Redemption, population maybe 200, was a collection of wooden buildings along a single main street. A general store, a saloon, a church, a blacksmith, a handful of houses. The kind of place where everyone knew everyone, and strangers were immediately noticed.
Elias pulled the wagon up in front of the general store and climbed down, then helped Nora and Tommy descend. Several people on the street had stopped to stare, their expressions ranging from curious to disapproving. Stay close, Elias murmured, his hand briefly touching Nora's elbow. Not possessive, just protective. Inside the store, a thin woman with sharp eyes and a sharper expression stood behind the counter.
Her gaze swept over Nora, taking in her worn dress and the child at her side, and her mouth pursed. Elias, she said coolly. Been a while. Mrs. Patterson.
Need to place an order. Elias handed over a list, his tone flat. The woman read the list, her eyebrows climbing. This is enough food for more than one person. That's right.