He asked what she liked to cook.
Whether she preferred mornings or evenings.
Whether she wanted children if God allowed.
When she confessed she feared she was too old, Caleb wrote:
Then we shall be old together.
She saved that line.
Months later, when Evelyn realized she was pregnant, Caleb proposed immediately.
Not romantically.
Matter-of-factly.
“We were going to marry eventually.”
That was what he said.
So she sold most of what she owned.
Packed the rest.
Bought a ticket west.
And trusted him.
Now the man who promised to grow old beside her had boarded a coach east before they even reached his ranch.
At sunset, the stationmaster approached.
“Ma’am?”
Evelyn looked up.
“We close the waiting room after eight.”
She nodded.
“I understand.”
“Do you have somewhere to go?”
Pride rose faster than truth.
“Yes.”
He hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Very good.”
She hated herself for lying.
But humiliation had already taken enough.
She would not hand it another piece willingly.
The stationmaster left.
Evelyn pressed both hands to her belly.
The baby shifted.
“You still have me.”
Her voice cracked.
“And I have you.”
The problem was that neither of them had a bed.
Then she heard wagon wheels.
A supply wagon rolled slowly along the station road.
Two horses.
Crates in the back.
Barrels.
Feed sacks.
The man driving wore a dusty brown hat.
He was broad-shouldered.
Older than Caleb.
Dark beard touched with gray.
Weathered face.
He pulled the wagon past the station.
Then slowed.
Evelyn lowered her gaze.
The wagon stopped.
She looked up.
The man studied her from beneath the brim of his hat.
Not rudely.
Not exactly.
He looked from Evelyn to the suitcase.
Then toward the station.
Then back.
“You waiting on someone?”
Evelyn swallowed.
“Not anymore.”
The rancher said nothing for several seconds.
Then climbed down.
He was taller than she expected.
Forty-four, perhaps.
Strong without looking polished.
His shirt sleeves were rolled to his forearms.
A dark leather vest hung open.
Dust coated his boots.
He tipped his hat.
“Nathaniel Callaway.”
Evelyn hesitated.
“Evelyn Marlo.”
Nathaniel nodded toward the suitcase.
“Train leave your luggage?”
“No.”
“Stagecoach late?”
“No.”
He stopped asking.
That surprised her.
Most people, once curiosity entered, wanted the whole wound.
Nathaniel looked toward the station building.
“Hotel’s full tonight.”
Evelyn’s heart sank.
He continued.
“Cattle buyers.”
“I see.”
“There’s a boarding house three streets over.”
Hope returned.
Then he added:
“Owner doesn’t like taking women alone.”
Hope disappeared.
Evelyn looked down.
Nathaniel rubbed the back of his neck.
“I have a ranch.”
She looked up immediately.
He seemed to realize how that sounded.
“That came out wrong.”
Despite everything, Evelyn nearly smiled.
Nathaniel continued.
“Spare room.”
“Housekeeper’s room originally.”
“Been empty years.”
“I’m offering a roof.”
“Nothing else.”
Evelyn stared at him.
A strange man.