“Yes, I can only imagine how unfortunate that was for you, to stay in your own home,” Cora said crossly. “And what is your plan now?”
Roy silently began to boil the coffee grounds, his back still facing Cora.
“My plan now is to have a cup of coffee, and then take my horse to the farrier to get the shoe fixed so I can be on my way.”
Cora wished he would turn to face her. She found it infuriating that he always spoke to her with his back turned or his eyes averted. He came across so standoffish that at times like this, she could not understand how he and his father were even related.
“You know that’s not what I mean,” Cora huffed. “What are you going to do now, with your father’s house?”
Roy shrugged, still focused on preparing his coffee.
“What kind of answer is that?” Cora raised her voice, her temper rising.
Roy finally turned around to face her, although he still did not make direct eye contact. Cora noticed again the scar beneath his eye, and she wondered what had happened. Probably some drunken brawl gone awry, she assumed.
“It’s an answer that simply means I don’t know. That I haven’t decided yet. Maybe I’ll sell it, or maybe I’ll leave it here to rot. I have all the time in the world to figure that out, don’t I? Whatever I decide to do is none of your concern, anyway.”
Roy Burns had finally gotten the better of Cora, and she couldn’t hold back her fury any longer.
“You know, perhaps everything worked out for the best. With your father, I mean,” Cora said, her voice rising to match the heat rushing to her face.
“Now what is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that perhaps one silver lining to come out of your father’s death is that he passed away before he could discover the awful, rotten man his son had become!”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Cora knew that she had gone too far. At first, Roy looked wounded, as if she had forcefully slapped him across the face. This expression quickly vanished, however, transforming his face back to stone.
“Get out,” Roy said, his voice devoid of emotion yet firm.
“What?” Cora said, taken aback.
“Get out of this house,” Roy repeated, speaking slowly and enunciating each syllable. His face was bright red, and Cora knew that he was serious. Not daring to argue, she turned and walked out the front door.
Regret plagued Cora as she walked back home. She knew she should not have said what she did.A gentle response defuses anger, but a sharp tongue kindles a temper-fire.That was a proverb that Pastor Burns often incorporated into his sermons, and she had underlined it in her own Bible as a reminder to herself when her tendency to become hotheaded got the better of her.
Today she had not only thrown that Scripture out the window, but she had directed her sharp tongue at Roy—the person she had vowed to the pastor that she would welcome home. How could she keep her promise to make sure that the community of Lakewood accepted Roy if she couldn’t even find it within her to accept him herself?
As she reentered her home and began to prepare a midmorning meal for her father, who often returned home around this time, she silently prayed to God for forgiveness. She knew she would eventually have to seek Roy’s forgiveness, too.Thatwould be much harder than talking to God.
Her mind was still preoccupied with these thoughts when her father arrived home. She served him buttered toast and freshly sliced fruit as he sat down at the table, removing his sheriff’s hat and placing it beside his plate. He seemed to be in a good mood, which was surprising given how angry he still was with her when he left for work this morning.
“Cora, I have some excellent news for you,” Sheriff Williams said, grinning beneath his thick mustache and taking a bite of toast.
Cora pulled up a chair and sat across from her father at the table. She didn’t even care what the news was—she was just happy to see that he was in a better mood.
“You know who Alfred Mills is, right?”
Cor was amused that her father would ask such an obvious question. Everyone in Lakewood knew about Alfred Mills; he was a man bred from generational wealth, and now, at only thirty years of age, he was the wealthiest man in Lakewood—perhaps even in the county. He owned over half of the town’s ranch land, having used forced charm and unrivaled ambition to rise to the top of the social hierarchy.
“Of course, I know who he is, although we have never once spoken. Why do you ask?”
Sheriff Williams swallowed his bite of food and then reached across the table for his daughter’s hand.
“Alfred came to me this morning to ask my blessing for your hand in marriage,” he said proudly, beaming from ear to ear as if he were the proudest father in the west.
Cora was sure her father was expecting her to react with some semblance of joy, but she was too stunned to even lift up her jaw.
“Marriage? But, Pa, what reason does he have for wanting to marry me? We don’t know each other. I just said that I have not spoken to him once!”
