"Thirty days is fine," Nathan said. "I'll be here to see how that goes."
Mercer's eyes sharpened. "You plan on staying?"
"Looks that way."
Nobody said anything else. Mercer walked back into his store and the door shut behind him with a sound like finality. And the crowd on the boardwalk began the slow shuffle of people who have witnessed something they haven't yet decided how to feel about.
Margaret picked up her bonnet from the dirt, shook it out, and tied it on. She didn't look at Nathan. "I didn't ask for your help," she said.
"No, ma'am, you didn't."
"I had a plan."
"I don't doubt it."
She finally looked at him. He was watching her with that same steady attention—not pitying, not patronizing, just watching, like she was something worth paying attention to.
"What is your actual business in Red Hollow, mister?"
"Cole. I told you. Passing through to Cheyenne."
"And now you're staying?"