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“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know. It’s-It’s just not a lot of people around here think it’s an efficient use of time.”
“Who are these people?”
“Oh, no one really,” she evaded.
Ethan. Ethan was “the people” she was talking about.
“Why do they think this?” I asked.
We rounded the horses around the base of the ridge we’d traversed down and headed for the two cattle at the north of the lake.
“I guess because I could be, I don’t know, doing necessary repairs or whatever instead.” She looked at me with a smile. “There’s always something to do on a ranch.”
“Exactly,” I agreed.
“Hmm?”
“There’s always something to do here. Proof that life does not wait, so why not carve yourself out a little bit of happiness. Granted, I know this is fulfilling work because it helps your family survive.” I sighed. “It’s definitely exhausting work, but why does it have to be what defines you?”
“Trust me,” she said, cryptically, “no one defines me by the work I do here.”
I studied her, but her face gave nothing more away. I could tell it was one subject that was off limits with her so I kept my mouth shut.
“You never answered my question.”
“Which one?” she asked.
“What do you make with this scrap metal you happen upon.”
She smiled down at her hands then looked up at me once more. My heart stopped. She made my heart stop. “I make unusual things. For instance, I’ve always been fascinated by Churchill.”
“Interesting,” I said, laughing a little.
She ignored me. “So I created this exaggerated version of his head using odds and ends. I stamped his quote, ‘If you’re going through hell, keep going,’ onto his forehead. I loved it. The others, not so much.” She sat thoughtfully for a second. “Except for Jonah! Jonah loves my sculptures.”
“And August?”
“Thinks they’re a waste of time.”
“And Ethan?”
She looked at me but didn’t utter a word.
“I think I’d like to see these sculptures of yours, Cricket Hunt.”
“Caroline,” she corrected with a smile.
“Your real name?” I asked.
“Yeah, you can keep calling me Cricket if you want though, but if we’re going to be partners, as you said, you should know my real name is Caroline.”
“Caroline’s a beautiful name.”
“Thank you.” She smiled that heart-stopping smile. “My dead mama picked it out.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said. “I saw her picture in the main house. You seem to carry an awful lot of her likeness. Seems to me she lives on just fine.”
