“What?”
“It’s good.”
Her mouth twitched.
“That sounded almost insulting.”
“My coffee never tastes like this.”
“I had noticed.”
He sat.
A loaf of bread sat beside the pot.
“You bake?”
“Yes.”
“How early did you wake?”
“Before you.”
The Rancher frowned.
“That isn’t a time.”
“It’s enough of one.”
He tore off bread.
Still warm.
“This is good too.”
The Bride turned.
“You appear shocked that I possess basic skills.”
“No.”
“You look shocked.”
“I’m accustomed to disappointment.”
That answer came out more honestly than expected.
The Bride paused.
Then returned to the stove.
“Maybe lower expectations.”
“Good strategy.”
A moment passed.
“You going back to the store?”
“Yes.”
The Lone Rancher stopped eating.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
She faced him.
“Because if I sit in this house all day trying to behave like somebody’s wife, I’ll lose my mind before Thursday.”
The Rancher nodded.
Fair.
The Bride tied on a bonnet.
“I’ll be back before supper.”
“Take the gray mare.”
“I can walk.”
“It’s four miles.”
“I walked it yesterday.”
“Take the mare.”
Her eyes narrowed.
He corrected himself.
“Would you like the mare?”
The Bride smiled.
“Yes.”
The Rancher pointed.
“Progress.”
“Small.”
He handed her the reins outside.
Before mounting, she looked at him.
“Don’t go into town and threaten anyone.”
The Lone Rancher’s expression gave her the answer.
She sighed.
“You’re planning to.”
“I need nails.”
“You own nails.”
“I may need more.”
“Rancher.”
“Bride.”
She pointed one finger.
“Do not make my first day of marriage harder than necessary.”
He leaned against the fence.
“No promises.”
The Bride mounted.
“That is precisely what worries me.”
She rode away.
The Rancher watched until dust swallowed her.
Then looked at the house.
It immediately felt empty.
He disliked that more than anything else that morning.
By afternoon, he was in town.
He truly did buy nails.
Eventually.
First he stood outside the general store.
Through the window, the Bride worked behind the counter.
A farmer entered.
Set down a list.
Never greeted her.
She fetched flour.
Beans.
Coffee.
Twine.
The customer handed over coins.
Took the parcel.
Left.
Not once did he meet her eyes.
Another entered.
Same thing.
The Lone Rancher understood her confession differently now.
People did not mistreat her dramatically.
That might have been easier to identify.
They simply passed through her.
The Rancher’s jaw tightened.
He walked to the saloon.
The Gambling Boss sat at his usual table.
Three men played cards beside him.
The man looked up.
“Well.”
The Lone Rancher remained standing.
“How much did her father owe you?”