"Well… naw," he decided all of a sudden. "What's this? What did you have to talk about?"
He gestured with his eyes at the stack of bills in front of him.
"That's a hundred dollars, and it's yours. If you swear to let us stay the next five months. I'll be able to sell my steers, and then we can talk about more rent payments."
Glen looked at the money and then looked at her. His face was surprisingly blank, as if he weren't particularly tempted by it. This was her big gamble. She needed that money, but now she was willing to give it up if it meant a little more safety in the long-term. Like an investment.
If he turned it down, then how was she supposed to keep going? She couldn't keep letting him hold that over her.
"Twenty dollars a month?" She wasn't sure what he was getting at.
"That should be plenty."
"I don't know," he said, sucking a breath between his teeth.
It wasn't enough, she thought. He was trying to decide if he should tell her to make a bigger offer, or just refuse flat out. She couldn't afford any more, though. She'd done the math, and if he said it wasn't enough, he was right. She was using at least three acres of land. Twenty dollars an acre, she owed him sixty a month.
She had hoped he wouldn't know that, but if he did, even if he tried to cut her a deal—she couldn't afford another fifty, not if she wanted to buy feed for the winter and food for her family. There weren't many favors left to call in, and she hadn't been in a position to start earning new ones.
He looked up from the money.
"No, ma'am. I'm sorry, but no." He pushed the money away. "But if you want a promise, then I'll give it to you. But I do need something from you, if you want to stay."
She looked at him, tried to decide what he wanted. He was getting all uncomfortable again. She had only known men to look that uncomfortable over one thing. Catherine knew where this was going, and she didn't like how much she didn't mind.
Eighty
Glen didn't like admitting that he still knew next to nothing about the trade he'd decided to pursue. He wasn't sure how obvious it was, but he sure as hell didn't like asking a woman swimming in her own problems to take time out of her day to show him what he needed to know. That was the least pleasant part.
He didn't like how hard he was having to fish for words, neither, but some things were unavoidable, in the end. "What I need, is your help with somethin'."
She pursed her lips, and then nodded after a moment. She picked up the money from the table, walked away, and disappeared into the bedroom. He waited a while, and when she came back her hands were empty. She closed the door to her children's room, and then started working the buttons on her dress.
Glen's eyes nearly popped out of his head. He shot straight up and turned to look out the window, not looking at her as he called back.
"What in the hell are you doing?" It took him a long minute to realize he'd cursed at her, so he added at the end, sheepishly. "Pardon my french."
Catherine's face burned. She had just kind of assumed, true. And she wasn't eighteen any more. There were plenty of prettier girls out there. But it wasn't fun to be told, point blank and to her face, that he wasn't interested. That she'd been going all off on her own, and assumed.
"I'm sorry," she stammered. "I just… assumed, you know."
"Assumed—what? Naw!"
> She couldn't see his face, but Catherine could imagine that his face was as red as his shirt. Her own, as well. She wanted to go back to her bedroom. Wanted to pretend she hadn't done it. Wanted to imagine that none of it had ever happened.
He would let it go, right? He'd already made it quite clear that he wasn't interested in her, not in that way. "What, then?"
His voice was softer, now. "You decent?"
Her fingers were shaking as she did up the buttons on her dress. "Yes."
"You wanna explain to me what that was all about?"
"No," she answered. There had been a time when she wouldn't have considered it. When it wouldn't have occurred to her. Billy had never been able to pay off his debts, though. It burned her to admit, but he'd worked out some downright un-Christian ways to pay off his poker buddies when he'd gone in too far over his head to make it even with a promise to get them back next time.
She'd had to take a scalding hot bath after to even start to feel clean again, and now she was feeling that way again. As if there was something dirty about her, beneath the skin. Something she wouldn't be able to clean off, because it was something wrong with her.
Glen turned. She looked as embarrassed as he felt, and then she abruptly slumped into a chair beside her, dropped her face, and started to cry. Was he supposed to comfort her? Lord only knew he'd wanted to. Just like he'd wanted to reconsider his refusal. But it wouldn't have been right, and he hadn't done it then.