She Came Asking For Work — The Rancher Said, “You’ll Find More Than Wages Here”

Chapter 2

Cole Dawson didn’t sleep that night.

He sat in his kitchen, staring at the empty chair across from him, the table set for one like it had been for three years. The lamp flickered. The wind howled. And somewhere out back, a stranger slept in his bunkhouse.

He wondered what she was running from.

He wondered if he’d just made a terrible mistake.

Mostly, he wondered why her eyes reminded him so much of his own—hollow in all the places grief had carved them out.

Sarah had died in this house. Died in the bedroom upstairs, her hand in his, her breath stopping between one heartbeat and the next. The baby—he’d never even named the baby—had been buried beside her on the ridge, two wooden crosses facing the valley.

The town had whispered. Worked her too hard. Should’ve called the doctor sooner. A man that cold shouldn’t have a wife at all.

Maybe they were right.