The Younger Sister looked toward the barn.
“He feels like something new.”
The Older Sister whispered:
“He feels like trouble.”
Her sister smiled sadly.
“Sometimes those are the same thing.”
The Cowboy was gone before sunrise.
The Older Sister found out because she had not slept.
She told herself the wind kept her awake.
Then the loose shutter.
Then thirst.
Then worry about the well.
None of those explanations accounted for the number of times she looked toward the barn window.
At dawn, the lantern was dark.
She crossed the yard.
The loft blankets were folded.
His saddle gone.
Horse gone.
No note.
The Older Sister stood in the barn doorway.
The Younger Sister appeared behind her.
“He left.”
“Yes.”
Her sister’s voice sharpened.
“You wanted that.”
The Older Sister looked at her.
“I never told him to stay.”
“Exactly.”
The Younger Sister walked away.
The Older Sister remained.
She hated the hollow feeling in her stomach.
Hated herself more for having it.
The Cowboy had done exactly what he said.
Finished the work.
Left.
Nothing dishonest.
Nothing owed.
Still, she felt abandoned by a man who had never promised anything.
That angered her enough to work twice as hard.
By noon she had repaired harness.
Moved cattle.
Cleaned the chicken enclosure.
Checked the south trough.
The Cowboy had been right.
The water was lower.
Much lower.
The Younger Sister stood beside her.
“What do we do?”
The Older Sister looked toward the well.
“Dig.”
“With what money?”
“We do it ourselves.”
Her sister stared.
“You think we can deepen a well ourselves?”
“We can try.”
Dust rose on the eastern road.
Both women looked.
A rider appeared.
The Older Sister’s heart struck once.
Hard.
The Younger Sister whispered:
“No.”
The rider came closer.
Brown hat.
Leather vest.
Same horse.
The Cowboy reached the yard.
Dismounted.
The Older Sister folded her arms before he could see relief.
“You forget something?”
“Yes.”
Her pulse increased.
“What?”
The Cowboy looked at her.
His eyes held hers.
“I got three miles.”
“And?”
“Kept thinking about this place.”
The Younger Sister smiled.
The Older Sister did not.
“That’s your mistake.”
“Probably.”
“Then why come back?”
The Cowboy looked toward the well.
“Because the fence was not your biggest problem.”
The Older Sister’s face hardened.
“We didn’t ask for more help.”
“I know.”
“So?”
He looked at her again.
“Didn’t feel finished.”
The sentence moved straight through her.
She covered it with anger.