“That was very thoughtful,” she said, her hand tightening around his arm. “Where does this lead? If I were to board the train in Crest Stone and head this direction, where would I arrive?”
“Santa Fe,” he replied.
“That sounds fascinating, doesn’t it? Just the words alone.Santa Fe.” She repeated the name with a wistful air.
Max tried not to laugh. “I should have guessed that you enjoy writing. You always have a dreamy sort of way of seeing the world.”
“I don’t know about that.” Her cheeks went pink, and he had the distinct impression that discussing her writing embarrassed her.
“You needn’t hide it,” he said, hoping to encourage her. “It’s good to have an interest such as that. In fact, if you’d like a reader, I’m happy to oblige.”
“Oh.” She turned away, facing the soaring Sangre de Cristos mountains to the west, whose snowy tops glistened in the sunlight. “Perhaps.”
Something told him not to press her. Max had no creative calling himself, but he could understand how one might feel nervous about sharing such a thing with someone else.
“I’ve heard there are great dunes of sand on the other side of those mountains, toward the south.” He gestured in the general direction, hoping the change in conversation might set her at ease.
“Really? Without an ocean in sight?” She seemed fascinated by the idea.
“I haven’t seen them myself, but I read about it in the Cañon City newspaper.”
“It’s a shame there isn’t a newspaper in Crest Stone,” Delia said. “People might appreciate reading about the goings on in town.”
“I’m sure there will be one day. Goodness knows there are enough rumors in town and scandalous reports of outlaws in the valley to keep a newspaper in business.”
“Oh, look at that!” Delia pointed at a little hill toward the southeast. “It doesn’t look too far. Shall we climb it?”
He agreed, and fifteen minutes later, they were gasping for breath at the top. He turned around to admire the view. The hill wasn’t very high, but it was enough to see Crest Stone laid out to the north, the railroad tracks leading through the middle of town and the two mountain ranges bracketing each side. If he squinted, he thought he could see smoke rising from the vicinity of the large mining encampment nestled in the base of the Wet Mountains to the east.
“It’s quite picturesque, isn’t it?” Delia said, her voice laced with awe.
“I imagine it isn’t anything compared to New York City.”
“It is, though,” she said. “It’s different, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Max looked around for a stone or something else Delia could use as a seat, but she plopped right down on the dirt and tucked her legs beneath her.
“After that climb,” she said, “I fear I could take a little nap right here.” She yawned for emphasis.
“Then we should eat to keep you awake.” He sat beside her and unwrapped the pastries.
Delia chose a cookie and held it up to admire it. “This looks wonderful.”
They ate in silence for a bit, admiring the view. Then, out of nowhere, Delia asked, “Do you like your work?”
Max smiled.Likingit was an understatement. “I love it. The people are fascinating, and Liam has become a good friend.”
She dusted crumbs off her hands and looked up at him. “Do you ever miss what you did before?”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Are you asking me if I’ll gamble away everything we own one day?”
She looked confused for a second before shaking her head. “Not at all, actually. That hadn’t crossed my mind. Although perhaps Ishouldask you that? I did once have a friend whose father couldn’t stay away from games of chance, and he lost his entire business.”
“I have no intention of gambling ever again,” he said sincerely. “And no, I don’t miss it at all. I only stuck with it to pay for lodging and food.”
“You must have enjoyed something about it,” she said.
“The people. I loved meeting new people and figuring them out. It was never the games at all, and the fear of losing everything I made with a bad hand worried me constantly. But I stayed with it because of the people.”
