She holds the door open, and I follow her inside with the bags. The kitchen smells faintly of coffee and warm spices. I set the bags on the counter, and she immediately starts unpacking them.
“The name is Evangeline Whitmore,” she says, glancing over her shoulder. “Most people call me Miss Evie. Easier that way.”
For a moment, I pause, just long enough for the name to register. Whitmore. The ranch is Whitmore at Copper Ridge. She is the owner or connected to the owner, probably the matriarch of the family that built all of this. I file that away fast and keep my expression neutral.
“Trace,” I offer. “Good to meet you, Miss Evie.”
She nods toward the table. “Since you are here, you might as well sit a spell while I get some breakfast going. You look like you could use a good meal.”
“I can grab something later.”
She gives a short laugh. “You can, but you will not. Sit. You are in my kitchen now, and nobody leaves my kitchen hungry.”
There is no point in arguing, so I take a seat while she moves around the kitchen, setting out eggs, bacon, and a small bowl of grits.
“You eat bacon?” she asks.
“Yes, ma’am.” Then I catch myself. “Yes, Miss Evie.”
“That’s better,” she says, a faint smile forming. “Any allergies or special diets I should know about?”
“No, Miss Evie.”
“Good. Picky eaters never lasted long around here. My husband used to say if you work the land, you eat what the land gives you.”
Silence settles comfortably while she cooks, and I watch the steady confidence in her movements. There is nothing fragile or uncertain about her. Everything she reaches for, measures, or handles comes naturally.
“You are quiet,” she says as she plates the food. “Tell me about yourself.”
“It’s not much to tell, I’m a former Marine. I’m trying to find a therapy that works for me.”
She puts a plate in front of me. Eggs, grits, bacon, and a biscuit. “Eat. My daughter’s therapy program seems to be helping people, hopefully, it’ll be able to help you too”
The first bite nearly stops me in my tracks. “Thank you, Miss Evie. This is the best food I have had since leaving Silver Creek.”
“That is because I made it with love. People forget it makes a difference.”
We talk while I eat. She asks where I came from, are my parents still alive, where they live, etc. I give her the short versions, and she doesn’t push. She just listens, and somehow that makes it easier to talk than it had been for a long time. I’m almost done eating when the screen door opens.
“Miss Evie?” Cash calls from outside. “You or Miss Hattie seen the new guy?”
He comes to a stop when he spots me at the table, fork halfway to my mouth.
Miss Evie answers before I can speak. “He was walking past when I needed help with the groceries. You think I am going to let a polite young man walk by and not feed him?”
Cash chuckles. “I was just coming to find him. I thought we had someone assigned to help with your groceries, Miss Evie. You are not supposed to be carrying them anyway.”
She clicks her tongue and gives me a pointed look. “See what I mean, out to pasture.”
I finish the last bite and carry my plate to the sink to wash it. “Breakfast was incredible. Thank you, Miss Evie.”
“You are welcome, Trace, and do not run off so fast next time. Cash is not the boss of me, so what I say goes.”
CHAPTER THREE
Trace
Cashand I ride over to the east pasture, sticking to the main road between the barns. The heat has picked up since morning, and the air shimmers a little off the dirt.
