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"Thank you, then," she said. He wasn't sure if she meant it.
The thought was running through his head, over and over. She had offered, that first time he had gone to ask for help dealing with the cattle. She'd offered, and he had refused. She'd offered him money, too, and he refused that.
What if she was just doing this so he wouldn't kick her off the ranch? The thought hadn't crossed his mind before. That she might have done it with him just because she wanted to have a hold over him.
"That night, up in Caspar." She looked at him. He could see how distressed she was looking, how worried she was about what he was going to ask next. "Was that, all that, because you…"
He couldn't finish the sentence. A twinge in his side exploded in pain, and it gave him a good excuse not to ask the question he suddenly realized he didn't want answered. Glen didn't want to find out if the answer was yes.
She finished it for him. "To get you on the hook? Keep me on the ranch?"
He opened his eyes just enough to see that she was angry that he had asked. He couldn't deny that he'd meant to ask that very question.
"Well? Did you?"
He could see the hurt in her eyes. "No, Glen Riley. No I did not."
He was silent for a moment, trying to ignore the pain in his side, trying to ignore how bad his face hurt. Trying to ignore the doubt that he was feeling about all of this. She could have told him the sky was green and he'd have believed her right now. Because he wanted to.
"Tell me it's not true. Tell me you never had nothin' to do with that man. With anything like that."
"I can't," she said softly. He fought to open his eyes. She was crying, now. Like she had before.
Glen forced himself up, trying to ignore the screaming pain that racked his body. He wrapped one arm around her and pulled her head into his chest. She didn't fight him.
"It's alright."
She leaned into him and cried. It wasn't alright, he knew. He would get over it. Things for him, they weren't too bad. The knowledge didn't change him. As much as it hurt, it didn't change how he felt about her, neither. But for Catherine…
He pressed his lips into her forehead.
For Catherine, it might not be alright at all.
Twenty Seven
Catherine looked in on Glen. He couldn't see her, and that was what made it alright for her to ignore him telling her to leave him be. She couldn't let him be—he was hurt, and bad. She could see a worrying glint in his eyes, one that she wasn't sure the source of, but it made her feel like she barely knew him.
She let herself go inside the front room. He jumped when he saw her, like he'd been too deep in thought to believe anyone would come in.
"Y'alright?"
He scowled for a moment. "Yeah, I'm alright."
"You look tired."
"I'm fine." He laid his head back against the arm of the sofa, though, and she realized exactly how tired he looked. Glen looked like he might not be able to keep himself upright too much longer if he didn't get some sleep.
"You need to rest, Glen."
"And I will." They'd already gone through all this, she knew. But that didn't mean that she could just ignore the fact that he wasn't sleeping and didn't seem to have any intention of doing so any time soon. "Once you stop fussin' over me."
"Does it hurt?"
"No." He was lying, but she wasn't going to call him on it.
"Do you need anything before I go to sleep?"
"No," he said again. She didn't believe him this time, either, but she let it go.
