Part 22 (1/2)

She saw him coming and hoped he wouldn't come in. Her heart wasn't ready for what was going to come next. He had to accept her offer of rent payment. Had to. If he didn't-she couldn't say what he wanted from them, but she couldn't keep waiting on him to decide she wasn't worth keeping around.

She repeated it over and over in her head. Any minute, any second. She said one thing out of line, and suddenly she'd be out of the place. That was if he didn't get a wild hair and decide all of a sudden that he wanted the house, and he wanted it now. And he wouldn't have no women and her children staying in the place with him.

If he did, it would be unpleasant, but unpleasant didn't mean she could do anything about it. That was the worst part. So even though it wouldn't be pleasant, she'd set out a hundred dollars, set out neatly on the coffee table in front of her sofa.

She looked in on Ada and the twins, hoped again that he wasn't coming. Knock, knock.

He didn't come straight in, but when she opened the door, there he was. Still wearing that pistol of his, still looking as good as ever. The days on the road hadn't changed him much, and she still wanted something she couldn't afford to give him. She shook her head.

”Mister Riley, what brings you around?”

”Ma'am, I thought we should talk about a few things.”

”So did I,” she agreed. ”You first, Mister Riley.”

He had already started moving toward the sofa when he asked, ”you mind if I take a seat?”

”Not at all,” Catherine answered. She'd been planning to ask him to sit down, but he had already started making his way over by the time she remembered her manners.

He settled in. ”I need to know what makes you think there's a rustling problem around here. I know you've got the more desirable steers, for sure-but I ain't had any problem with mine, and I haven't seen any trouble out there.”

Catherine's face twisted up, and Glen almost regretted asking the question. If doubting her was going to upset her that much, then he shouldn't have asked. But he couldn't decide what the right answer was if he couldn't see the problem with his own two eyes.

”A few years back, I had a smaller herd, and they were easier to manage. Even if I had a little less time with Ada and the twins being too young to fend for themselves, I could find the time to do an accurate headcount. We lost seven head the first year, and twelve the second year. But I managed to get a good deal on the beef and we still made a profit, so...”

”So, let me see if I'm understanding. You don't know, not to a certainty, that they're still doing it?”

She avoided his eyes, but that did seem to be the case. No matter.

”I talked to the Sheriff about it, but he said he didn't know enough to do anything about it. Said that it would take too much work to find pretty few head. No idea who'd been doing it, either.”

Glen nodded. ”Alright, but what if they moved on, or got arrested on something else? Or rustling someone else's cattle? Couldn't they have stopped?”

Catherine nodded after a moment. ”It's possible. You could give them a count tomorrow, if you like. I have a round thousand head.”

”I'll do that, then.”

She nodded her understanding. ”Did you have anything else you needed to talk about?”

”Yeah, I did.”

Catherine's heart dropped. She could hear it in his voice, something had been moving through his head, some thought, and now that it was time to say it, he was slow to say it to her. Only one thing would cause that kind of reaction, the kind of thing that she was hoping that he would leave off.

The kind of thing that she'd been hoping to avoid with her rent payments.

”What's that?”

”Well... naw,” he decided all of a sudden. ”What's this? What did you have to talk about?”

He gestured with his eyes at the stack of bills in front of him.

”That's a hundred dollars, and it's yours. If you swear to let us stay the next five months. I'll be able to sell my steers, and then we can talk about more rent payments.”

Glen looked at the money and then looked at her. His face was surprisingly blank, as if he weren't particularly tempted by it. This was her big gamble. She needed that money, but now she was willing to give it up if it meant a little more safety in the long-term. Like an investment.

If he turned it down, then how was she supposed to keep going? She couldn't keep letting him hold that over her.

”Twenty dollars a month?” She wasn't sure what he was getting at.

”That should be plenty.”

”I don't know,” he said, sucking a breath between his teeth.

It wasn't enough, she thought. He was trying to decide if he should tell her to make a bigger offer, or just refuse flat out. She couldn't afford any more, though. She'd done the math, and if he said it wasn't enough, he was right. She was using at least three acres of land. Twenty dollars an acre, she owed him sixty a month.

She had hoped he wouldn't know that, but if he did, even if he tried to cut her a deal-she couldn't afford another fifty, not if she wanted to buy feed for the winter and food for her family. There weren't many favors left to call in, and she hadn't been in a position to start earning new ones.

He looked up from the money.

”No, ma'am. I'm sorry, but no.” He pushed the money away. ”But if you want a promise, then I'll give it to you. But I do need something from you, if you want to stay.”

She looked at him, tried to decide what he wanted. He was getting all uncomfortable again. She had only known men to look that uncomfortable over one thing. Catherine knew where this was going, and she didn't like how much she didn't mind.

Eighty.

Glen didn't like admitting that he still knew next to nothing about the trade he'd decided to pursue. He wasn't sure how obvious it was, but he sure as h.e.l.l didn't like asking a woman swimming in her own problems to take time out of her day to show him what he needed to know. That was the least pleasant part.

He didn't like how hard he was having to fish for words, neither, but some things were unavoidable, in the end. ”What I need, is your help with somethin'.”

She pursed her lips, and then nodded after a moment. She picked up the money from the table, walked away, and disappeared into the bedroom. He waited a while, and when she came back her hands were empty. She closed the door to her children's room, and then started working the b.u.t.tons on her dress.

Glen's eyes nearly popped out of his head. He shot straight up and turned to look out the window, not looking at her as he called back.

”What in the h.e.l.l are you doing?” It took him a long minute to realize he'd cursed at her, so he added at the end, sheepishly. ”Pardon my french.”

Catherine's face burned. She had just kind of a.s.sumed, true. And she wasn't eighteen any more. There were plenty of prettier girls out there. But it wasn't fun to be told, point blank and to her face, that he wasn't interested. That she'd been going all off on her own, and a.s.sumed.

”I'm sorry,” she stammered. ”I just... a.s.sumed, you know.”

”a.s.sumed-what? Naw!”

She couldn't see his face, but Catherine could imagine that his face was as red as his s.h.i.+rt. Her own, as well. She wanted to go back to her bedroom. Wanted to pretend she hadn't done it. Wanted to imagine that none of it had ever happened.

He would let it go, right? He'd already made it quite clear that he wasn't interested in her, not in that way. ”What, then?”