“This isn’t a hotel for wandering men who change their minds.”
“No.”
“Then ride.”
The Cowboy reached for the reins.
For one second, she thought he would.
The Younger Sister stared at her in disbelief.
The Cowboy paused.
Then:
“If I ride, you lose the south well before summer.”
The Older Sister said nothing.
He continued.
“I checked the trough yesterday.”
“The flow’s dropping.”
“Could be collapse.”
“Could be sediment.”
“Could be your water table.”
“Either way, ignoring it doesn’t make it better.”
The Younger Sister stepped forward.
“You can fix it?”
The Cowboy looked toward the well.
“Maybe.”
The Older Sister hated that word.
Honest words were harder to reject.
“What’s your price?”
The Cowboy looked at her.
“Same.”
“Food.”
“Water.”
“A place in the barn.”
“And?”
His eyes remained on hers.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“How long you let me stay.”
The air changed.
The Younger Sister looked from one to the other.
Then, wisely, walked toward the house.
The Older Sister watched her go.
Then looked at the Cowboy.
“You think fixing things gives you a claim here?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He stepped closer.
“Fixing things gives me a reason to stay busy.”
“That’s all?”
“No.”
The Older Sister’s breath caught.
The Cowboy lowered his voice.
“But you don’t want the other reason yet.”
She looked toward his mouth.
Just once.
He noticed.
Of course.
The Older Sister folded her arms tighter.
“You sleep in the barn.”
The Cowboy smiled.
“Understood.”
They began digging before sunrise the next morning.
The soil beneath the first few feet was dry powder.
Below that, clay.
Hard.
Sticky.
Heavy.
The Older Sister swung a pick beside the Cowboy.
The Younger Sister hauled buckets.
By noon, all three were filthy.
The Older Sister’s palms blistered.
One split.
She wrapped it.
Kept working.
The Cowboy noticed.
Said nothing.
Later, when she reached for the pick, he took it first.
“Use the shovel.”
“I can swing a pick.”
“I know.”
“Then give it.”
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You giving orders now?”
“No.”
“Then give it.”
The Cowboy looked at her hand.
“Your palm’s bleeding.”
She hid it.
“Barely.”
“You won’t help anyone if you tear it open.”
The Older Sister stepped closer.
“You always this irritating?”
“Only when right.”
The Younger Sister laughed from above.
The Older Sister glared upward.
“Not helping.”