“Yes.”
She said it firmly.
“I still want it.”
The ranch owner nodded.
“Good.”
Silence.
The foreman coughed.
The woman looked between them.
“Is that the whole proposal?”
The ranch owner frowned.
“What?”
“Good?”
The foreman turned away to hide a smile.
The ranch owner felt heat crawl beneath his collar.
“I don’t know what you expected.”
“I didn’t expect poetry.”
“That’s fortunate.”
The woman almost smiled.
Almost.
Then the ranch owner noticed the carpetbag.
“Your luggage?”
“This.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes.”
The foreman looked surprised.
The woman’s face hardened before either man could ask another question.
“I sold most of what I owned to settle my boarding account and pay what the agency did not.”
The ranch owner immediately stopped.
“Understood.”
That was all.
No pity.
She seemed grateful for that.
They rode home slowly because there had only been two horses.
The woman sat in front of the ranch owner.
She remained stiff for the first mile.
He kept his hands carefully positioned on the reins and nowhere else.
The foreman rode ahead.
Wind swept across the open country.
The woman watched Wyoming reveal itself.
Sagebrush.
Dry ridges.
Distant cattle.
Miles of sky.
At last she spoke.
“Your letter said thirty men.”
“Thirty-one if you count me.”
“Do you?”
“Usually.”
“You said the house was badly managed.”
“Yes.”
“How badly?”
The ranch owner thought.
“You’ll see.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It is.”
They continued another mile.
The woman asked:
“Why marry?”
The question surprised him.
“What?”
“Why not hire a housekeeper?”
“Tried.”
“Cook?”
“Three.”
“All left?”
“One married.”
“One disappeared after payday.”
“One tried poisoning us with biscuits.”
The woman laughed before she could stop herself.
The ranch owner felt her body loosen slightly against the saddle.
He smiled.
Then she asked again:
“Why marry?”
He became serious.
“Because I need someone who has reason to stay.”
She went quiet.
The ranch owner immediately realized how cold it sounded.
He added:
“That came out badly.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t mean trapped.”
She waited.
“I mean invested.”
He searched for better words.
“This place is failing from inside.”
“I can hire labor.”
“I can’t hire loyalty.”
The woman looked toward the endless land.
“And you think marriage guarantees it?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“I think partnership has better odds.”
That answer seemed to satisfy her more.
They reached Red Canyon near sunset.
The woman stared.
The ranch was larger than she expected.
Several barns.
Long bunkhouse.
Machine shed.
Corrals.
Main house.
Smoke from two chimneys.
Men working near the cattle pens.
Thirty exhausted cowboys noticed her within seconds.
Conversations stopped.
One laughed.
Another elbowed him.
The woman heard.
The ranch owner felt her body stiffen again.
He dismounted.
Then helped her down.
A hand near the water trough muttered:
“That her?”
Another answered:
“Must be.”