Ingrid kept her hands folded tight in her lap, careful, always careful. The bench was narrow for her size, and she kept her elbows tucked in so she wouldn't brush against him. Even the smallest contact felt like it might break something unseen. The wheels creaked over the dry ruts. Dust rose in slow clouds behind them, drifting back into the endless emptiness they had come from.
She stared ahead. The land felt wrong. Too wide. Too exposed. No trees to hide behind.
No buildings to press close to. Just open sky and ground stretching until it blurred into nothing. A place where everything could see you. A place where nothing would shield you. "We pass through town first," Calder said.
His voice cut through the wind without effort. Still not looking at her. "It is not much. " Ingrid gave a small nod. She could already feel it before they reached it. Eyes waiting.
The town appeared slowly. A handful of buildings pressed together like they were trying to survive the wind. Wood worn gray. Signs hanging crooked. Dust piled in every corner.
But it wasn't empty. People were there. And they noticed. The moment the wagon rolled onto the street, movement slowed. A man sweeping stopped mid-motion.
Two women froze outside a shop, their conversation dying between them. A group of cowboys on a porch leaned forward, elbows on their knees, watching. Ingrid felt her spine tighten. Her chin dipped again before she could stop it. Not here.
Not again. But her body remembered. Always remembered. "Look at that," one of the men said, loud enough. Always loud enough.
"That ain't a bride. " A chuckle followed. Rough, easy, "That's a workhorse. " More laughter. Ingrid's fingers dug into the fabric of her skirt. Her breath slowed. In, out, do not react.
Do not give them more. She had learned that long ago. Beside her, Calder's jaw tightened. She saw it from the corner of her eye. The muscle jumping once, twice.
His hands shifted on the reins. The horses picked up speed. Not much, just enough to move them past. "Ignore them. " he said. "Flat, hard.
"I am used to it. "" she answered. The words slipped out before she could stop them. And the moment they were spoken, something changed. The air between them shifted. Not softer, not warmer, but different.
Calder glanced at her. Quick, sharp, like he had heard something he didn't expect. But he said nothing more. The wagon rolled on. They stopped outside a store. ""I need supplies. "" he said, already stepping down. ""You can wait. "" Ingrid looked at the street, at the men still watching, at the women whispering behind hands. ""I will come inside. "" she said.