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Boone did not so much as blink.

The woman fixed her boot, stood, and accepted her child back with an easy thank-you, as if she had handed the safest man in the valley the most breakable thing she owned.

Maybe she had.

My vision went soft.

I looked down at the fence rail beside the table until the grain came clear again.

One splinter. Two old nail holes. Sun-bleached wood with a dark stain where rain had sat.

"Jos?"

I turned.

Boone stood on the other side of the table.

He had crossed the yard without me noticing. His eyes moved over my face, careful and brown. "You good?"

Behind him, Silver Bend went on working.

"Yes," I said quietly.

He waited.

The rule remained. No lies with good posture.

I put down the syringe. "I saw the baby."

His brow pulled in, as if the baby had been an equipment failure he might need to address.

"And nobody moved away from you."

Understanding came slowly across his face. "Oh."

It was such a Boone answer that I smiled.

He looked toward the corrals. Men leaned against the rails where he had just been standing. A child dragged one of Boone's gloves through the dirt while his father talked to Wyatt.

Boone's throat moved. "Mm," he said.

I touched two fingers to his wrist. All I could reach with the table between us.

He turned his hand and caught them. Just for a second. Then Doc cleared his throat loudly from the folding chair. "Romance later. Vaccines now."

Boone released me.

I picked up the syringe. "He's jealous."

"Obviously."

Doc said something rude under his breath.

Boone went back to the chute.

The work rolled toward noon.

Silver Bend people did not only bring hands. They brought money in a dozen small ways nobody had expected.