A woman alone.
Pregnant.
Everything she had ever been taught warned against accepting.
Nathaniel seemed to read the concern.
“You don’t know me.”
“No.”
“And you shouldn’t trust me because I say you can.”
“No.”
“Fair.”
He pointed toward the station.
“You can ask the stationmaster who I am.”
Evelyn looked toward the building.
Nathaniel added:
“You can ask the storekeeper.”
“Sheriff too, if he’s still at the office.”
“You can decide after.”
That changed something.
Men looking to take advantage generally did not recommend background checks.
Evelyn stood carefully.
Nathaniel immediately moved closer, then stopped before touching her.
“You all right?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
That answer escaped before she could control it.
Nathaniel’s mouth softened.
Not a smile.
Something kinder.
“Fair again.”
He waited while she went inside.
The stationmaster confirmed Nathaniel Callaway owned a cattle ranch eight miles west.
Widower.
Good reputation.
Paid bills.
No history of trouble.
The storekeeper said:
“He’s quiet.”
Then shrugged.
“That’s about the worst thing I’ve got.”
The sheriff, found eating supper at his desk, nodded.
“Callaway?”
“Wouldn’t worry about him.”
“Man still returns borrowed tools cleaner than he got them.”
That seemed unusually specific.
Evelyn returned.
Nathaniel stood exactly where she left him.
He had not touched her suitcase.
She appreciated that too.
“I’ll come.”
He nodded.
Then:
“May I?”
He pointed toward the suitcase.
Evelyn hesitated.
Then let go of the handle.
“Yes.”
Nathaniel lifted it easily.
The split corner opened again.
Fabric slipped out.
Evelyn flushed.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“The suitcase.”
Nathaniel looked at it.
“Did you make it break?”
“No.”
“Then stop apologizing to me for it.”
She stared.
Nobody had ever put it that way.
He placed the suitcase in the wagon.
Then offered his hand.
The wagon seat was high.
Evelyn looked at the step.
Then at her belly.
“I may need help.”
Nathaniel nodded.
“Tell me where.”
She positioned one hand on his forearm.
He placed the other carefully at her elbow.
Not waist.
Not hip.
No unnecessary familiarity.
She climbed.
Halfway, her boot slipped.
Nathaniel caught her immediately.
One arm moved around her back.
The other steadied her beneath the forearm.
For one second, Evelyn’s body pressed against his chest.
Both froze.
Nathaniel smelled like leather, sun, and clean sweat.
Evelyn’s face became hot.
Nathaniel cleared his throat.
“You all right?”
“Yes.”
Neither moved.
Then Evelyn realized his hand remained against her back.
Large.
Warm.
Careful.
She looked up.
Nathaniel looked down.
Something passed between them.
Not romance.
Too soon.
Awareness.
Two adults suddenly conscious that the person touching them was not merely a problem to solve.
Nathaniel released her first.
“Sorry.”
Evelyn settled onto the seat.