Chapter 24: Monday at Nine

Boone asked me at sunrise on Monday, at the north pasture gate.

The grass had come back in the weeks since the Kell cattle left, thick and green to the ridge.

Six thousand acres, and not one animal on it.

He had saddled two horses and brought a thermos.

He stood in front of me in his work coat with his hat in his hand, and he looked very nervous.

"Anneliese," he said.

"That's three Mondays you've got that name right."

"I've been practicing."

"Ask."

"I don't have a ring."

"I don't want one."

"I've got this."

He took the brass key off his belt loop.

It was the cabin key, the spare, on its loop of baling twine, and he held it out on his flat palm.

"It's not much," he said. "It opens a one-room cabin with a bad stove. But it's the only door I've ever had that I wanted you to have a key to."

My eyes stung.

I took it.

"Is that the question?" I said.

"The question is, will you marry me."

"Yes."

He blinked.

"Yes?"

"You said ask properly. You asked properly."

He laughed, a short rough sound, and caught me up off the ground and swung me around.

The horses shied.

"Put me down, you fool, I've got an appointment."

"With who?"

"The county clerk," I said. "Nine o'clock."

He stared.

"I made it Friday," I said. "I wasn't going to wait for you to find your nerve."

"You booked the courthouse before I asked."

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