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Clint had the same set up. All the men who worked on his farm ate in the dining room for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. They lived in on-site housing and I was expected to cook and clean for the endless people streaming through the ranch house.
All at once, I realize I’m in the wrong place. I draw back, clutching the book to my chest.
“I’m going to go,” I say.
He frowns, pivoting on his heel. “Where?”
“I’ll eat in the kitchen with Maddie,” I say, frowning.
Is he expecting me to eat with the men?
“Maddie doesn’t eat in the kitchen. She sets the food out and then she eats with her husband in their lodging,” he says. He’s still looking at me with that heavy crease across his forehead.
“Oh,” I say, looking around. I notice that a few dozen of the men are staring at me curiously. I back up to the doorway and he follows me, blocking their view.
“I didn’t give you permission to leave,” he says. “Where did you eat at Garrison Ranch?”
“In the kitchen,” I say.
“And before that?”
I’m so uncomfortable I’m squirming. “With my father in the dining room.”
“Then you’ll do the same here.”
He takes my hand and leads me through the room to the table on the far end. I notice the man from the other night who cooled down Shadow.
He glances up and waves. Gerard ushers me to a seat beside him.
The man leans over and extends his hand. “Westin Quinn.”
I shake it. He’s got calluses like Gerard. They probably all do.
“Mrs. Keira Garrison,” I say.
His brows shoot up and he glances at Gerard. He’s gathering up our plates and turning to head to the buffet table. I jump to my feet to help and he shoots me a look that’s so hard and commanding I sit back down at once.
“How well do you know Sovereign?” Westin asks.
It takes me a second to realize he means Gerard. “Not well. I was surprised he wanted me to come stay here.”
He laughs. “All roads lead to Sovereign Mountain.”
I’d heard the phrase before. It was never a good thing. It usually implied desperation and unwillingness. I glance over the room and the atmosphere feels relaxed, everyone seems well fed and happy. Maybe the distrust the people in town feel towards Sovereign Mountain is unwarranted.
Gerard returns and places a plate of thick stew poured over mashed potatoes and a slice of bread before me. It smells amazing and the roasted meat is so tender it’s falling apart. He hands me a fork and sets a drink down. Then he sits.
“So how bad is the house?” I ask.
“It’ll need cleaned and the older portion repaired,” says Westin.
“Did you go?” I ask.
He nods. “The house is salvageable. The barn will need rebuilt.”
Gerard shoots him a look and he falls silent. I wonder if he said something I wasn’t supposed to know, or if Gerard is just territorial. They both eat in silence so I clean my plate because I’m starving. It’s been hours since the egg on toast I had at breakfast.
I’ve always lived with men, watching them like they’re zoo animals. Wondering what it would feel like to have been born with the kind of confidence they have to take on the world.
