“I’m sure she did.”
“She ran this place beautifully.”
“I’ve heard.”
Cecilia smiled.
“It must be difficult stepping into her place.”
Avalene looked directly at her.
“I didn't.”
Silence.
Cecilia blinked.
Avalene continued:
“I stepped into mine.”
Wyatt looked at her.
Something warm moved through him.
Cecilia stood soon afterward.
The visit ended.
The problem did not.
Within a week, rumors began.
Avalene heard the first at the mercantile.
Two women near the fabric counter.
“Mail-order.”
“Imagine.”
“Margaret wouldn't have approved.”
Avalene pretended not to hear.
The next came at church.
“Poor Wyatt.”
“As if he had no local options.”
Then:
“She probably saw the acreage in the advertisement.”
Avalene stopped.
The advertisement never mentioned acreage.
Meaning someone was embellishing.
By the third Sunday, the story had become:
Avalene pursued Wyatt after learning he was wealthy.
She demanded marriage.
She planned to control the ranch.
She was already spending extravagantly.
That last part was especially absurd.
Household costs had decreased twelve percent since she arrived.
Wyatt discovered the gossip through Higgins.
The foreman entered the barn office.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“Town’s talking.”
“Town always talks.”
“About Mrs. Calder.”
Wyatt’s pencil stopped.
“What about her?”
Higgins explained.
Wyatt stood before the foreman finished.
“Where is she?”
“Kitchen.”
Wyatt crossed the yard.
Avalene was rolling biscuit dough.
He entered too quickly.
She looked up.
“What happened?”
“You heard the rumors?”
Her hands stopped.
That was answer enough.
“How long?”
“A while.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
She returned to the dough.
“What would you do?”
“Correct them.”
“How?”
“However necessary.”
Avalene looked at him.
“That sounds threatening.”
“It is.”
She almost smiled.
Then her expression softened.
“You can't stop people talking.”
“I can stop Cecilia.”
Avalene looked down.
There.
Confirmation.
“It's her.”
Wyatt hesitated.
“I think so.”
Avalene resumed rolling.
“Leave it.”
“No.”
“Wyatt.”
He stopped.
It was the first time she had used his name naturally.
No Mr. Calder.
No careful distance.
He liked it far too much.
Avalene said:
“I have lived most of my life trying to prove I am useful enough that people won't send me away.”
Wyatt frowned.
“What?”
She did not look at him.
“My father’s business failed.”
“Yes.”
“My fiancé left when it did.”
Wyatt knew the outline from her letters.
Not the details.
Avalene continued:
“He said he needed a wife who brought something besides good bread.”
Wyatt stared at her flour-covered hands.
“He said that?”
“Yes.”
“What was his name?”
Avalene almost laughed.
“Why?”
“So I know who to dislike.”
She looked at him.
Wyatt was serious.
Avalene’s smile disappeared into something more vulnerable.
“He wasn't entirely wrong.”
“Yes, he was.”