Something soft grew between them.
Neither named it.
Naming created danger.
Then came the afternoon with the bread.
Snow had begun early that year.
By November, the windows were white around the corners.
June stood at the kitchen table kneading dough.
She wore a deep burgundy house dress Alice had sent up from town.
Cream lace at the neckline.
Sleeves rolled.
Flour dusting her hands.
Caleb entered carrying firewood.
Stopped.
June looked over.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're staring.”
“No.”
“You are.”
Caleb set down the wood.
“Bread.”
“What about it?”
“You're doing it wrong.”
June stared.
Then laughed.
“I have baked bread since I was nine.”
“My mother folded the dough differently.”
“Your mother is not here to defend this accusation.”
Caleb walked toward the table.
June watched.
“What are you doing?”
“Showing you.”
“Caleb.”
He stepped behind her.
“Hands.”
She held them out.
He placed his larger hands over hers.
Flour.
Warm skin.
Dough between their fingers.
“Fold.”
June went completely still.
Caleb realized how close they were.
His chest nearly touched her back.
Her hair smelled like soap and cinnamon.
One loose curl rested along her neck.
Caleb forgot bread entirely.
June slowly turned her head.
Caught him staring.
Not at her hands.
At her mouth.
Her breathing changed.
“Mr. Mercer.”
His voice came rougher than intended.
“What?”
“If this is how you teach every cook, I understand why none of them lasted.”
He leaned slightly closer.
“None of them made me forget why I walked into the kitchen.”
June’s cheeks reddened.
She turned within the narrow space between his arms.
Now they faced one another.
Very close.
Her flour-covered hands rested against the table behind her.
Caleb did not touch her.
That somehow made the moment worse.
June whispered:
“Careful.”
“Of what?”
“A lonely man can mistake wanting supper for wanting the woman who made it.”
Caleb looked directly into her eyes.
“Then I'm in trouble.”
She swallowed.
“Why?”
“Because I stopped thinking about supper the second you turned around.”
June looked at his mouth.
Then his eyes.
Caleb leaned closer.
Stopped.
Gave her the choice.
June closed the distance.
The kiss was soft.
Short.
Almost uncertain.
Then she pulled away immediately.
Eyes wide.
“Caleb.”
“I know.”
“That was a mistake.”
“No.”
“You don't know that.”
“I do.”
“You're my employer.”
“I can fire you.”
June stared.
He smiled.
“Terrible joke.”
“Very.”
“Sorry.”
She tried not to smile.
Failed.
Then the front gate bell rang.
Both froze.
The world returned.
Caleb stepped away.
June looked toward the window.
A rider waited below.
Not Crowley.
A boy.
Fourteen.
Carrying a telegram.
Caleb rode down.
Returned ten minutes later.
June stood near the stove.
“What?”
He handed her the message.
ALICE VAUGHN TAKEN ILL. COME MERCY RIDGE IMMEDIATELY.
June's face drained.
They left within fifteen minutes.
The telegram was false.
By the time they reached the lower road, four riders emerged from the trees.
Dale Crowley among them.
Caleb saw the trap immediately.
He pulled his horse across June's.
“Behind me.”
Dale smiled.
“Should've stayed home.”
Caleb looked around.
Four men.
No safe retreat.
June whispered:
“Don't fight.”
Dale dismounted.
“We only want papers.”
Caleb said:
“What papers?”
Dale looked at June.
“She knows.”
June said nothing.
One rider moved toward her horse.
Caleb's hand went to his revolver.
Dale raised both palms.
“Careful.”
“Four of us.”
“One of you.”
June's voice:
“Caleb.”
He looked at her.
She slowly reached inside her coat.
Dale's eyes brightened.
“That's it.”
June pulled out nothing but a folded envelope.
Dale stepped closer.
She held it.
“Let us go.”
“Paper first.”
June handed it over.
Caleb stared.
Dale opened.
Inside was one page.
A copy of the ledger.
His expression changed.
He read.
Then tore it.
“That all?”
June smiled.
“No.”
Dale froze.
“I copied thirty-seven pages.”
“Where?”
“Different places.”
His face reddened.
“You lying—”
“And I mailed one set to Cheyenne yesterday.”
Caleb looked at her.
That was news.
Dale stepped closer.
“To who?”
“Territorial auditor.”
The riders exchanged glances.
June continued:
“And one to a lawyer in Laramie.”
Dale stared.
“If anything happens to me, more copies go out.”
Silence.
Caleb almost smiled.
June had finally stopped trying to disappear.
Dale shoved the torn paper into the mud.
“You think that saves you?”
June looked at him.
“No.”
“I think it makes hurting me inconvenient.”
Caleb had never loved anyone in that exact moment before.
He came dangerously close.
Dale looked at Caleb.
“She'll ruin you.”
Caleb answered:
“Get off my road.”
For once, Dale did.
Not because he was afraid of Caleb.
Because June had changed the stakes.
They rode home in silence.
Halfway up the mountain, Caleb asked:
“Cheyenne?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“How?”
“Harlan's mail coach.”
“You didn't tell me.”
“I didn't want you involved.”
Caleb stopped his horse.
June continued several yards before noticing.
She turned.
“What?”
“You still don't understand.”
“Understand what?”
“I am involved.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You hired a cook.”
“I know.”
“That's all.”
“No.”
June looked away.
Caleb rode closer.
“Why are you still trying to leave before anyone can choose whether you stay?”
Her face changed.
“That isn't fair.”
“Probably not.”
“You don't know what happens when Silas wants something.”
“I know what happens when you want to run.”
Her eyes filled.
She became angry.
“You think this is easy for me?”
“No.”
“I spent years being told I was a burden.”
“Too large.”
“Too loud when I spoke.”
“Too ugly when I didn't smile.”
“Too clever for a woman.”
“Not clever enough to matter.”
“Silas made people think I stole because he knew nobody would choose me over him.”
Caleb stared.
June continued:
“And now you think one month in your kitchen changes what people are?”
“No.”
“What then?”
“It changed what I am.”
She stopped.
Caleb's voice dropped.
“I used to think keeping everyone outside these fences made me strong.”
“Then you arrived.”
“Now every time you pack that bag, this place feels empty before you've even left.”
June stared at him.
Caleb looked away.
That was more honesty than he intended.
She whispered:
“Caleb.”
He shook his head.
“Ride.”