"No."
"The cattle are."
"Among other things."
She studied him.
"What about the water?"
"We have a river."
"How much is flowing?"
"Enough."
"How do you know?"
Elias frowned.
"Because it always has."
Miriam said nothing.
That silence bothered him more than an argument would have.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're thinking something."
"I am."
"Say it."
"You've lived here so long that you've stopped seeing the ranch as it is."
Elias leaned back.
"You've been here one day."
"Exactly."
She looked toward the window.
"I'm seeing it without memories attached to everything."
That sentence stayed with him long after they went to bed.
The next morning, Elias expected Miriam to sleep late.
She did not.
He found her in the barn before sunrise.
Her hair was tied back.
Her sleeves were rolled up.
She was carrying a bucket.
"What are you doing?"
"Helping."
"You don't need to."
"I know."
She continued working.
Elias watched her for a moment.
"You've done this before."
"Since I was eight."
"Where?"
"My grandfather's farm."
"Your father said you were raised in town."
"He wanted me to become refined."
Elias smiled.
"And did it work?"
Miriam looked at him.
"That depends on what you mean by refined."
He laughed quietly.
It was the first time she had heard him laugh.
They worked through breakfast.
Later, Elias showed her the property.
Miriam noticed everything.
The fences.
The exhausted pasture.
The empty spaces around the water troughs.
The western field.
When they reached the field, she stopped.
"Why don't you use this?"
"Too rocky."
"Have you tested the soil?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Nothing grows there."
Miriam walked closer.
She crouched and ran the soil through her fingers.
"It's compacted."
"So?"
"So the ground isn't dead."
Elias folded his arms.
"What are you suggesting?"
"Break it before the frost settles in."
"With what?"
"Your old plow."
"That field would take days."
"We don't have days."
She stood.
"That's why we start now."
Elias stared toward the western field.
"You're serious."
"Very."
"You think you can save a useless field in three days?"
"I think you don't know whether it's useless yet."
That was the first moment Elias began to wonder whether his mother's description had been completely wrong.
Miriam was gentle.
But she was not passive.
She did not raise her voice.
She simply refused to accept an assumption when she could test it herself.
And that difference would soon change everything.
By noon, Miriam had made a list.
Elias stared at it.
There were more than twenty tasks.
Repair the north fence.
Inspect the barn roof.
Check the well.
Inventory the hay.
Move the weaker cattle.
Investigate the western field.
Secure firewood.
Inspect the river.
Speak with neighboring ranchers.
Review the bank deadline.
And several others.
Elias shook his head.
"This is impossible."
"No."
She divided the list into three columns.
"Things we can do today."
She pointed.
"Things we can do tomorrow."
Then she pointed to the final section.
"Things that require money."
Elias looked at her.
"You've done this before."
"Planning?"
"Managing a crisis."
Miriam's expression changed slightly.
"My grandfather lost half his farm during a drought."
Elias waited.
"We survived because he taught me something."
"What?"
"Don't waste time being angry about the problem you already have."
She tapped the paper.
"Find the part you can still change."
They began.
By sunset, the northern fence had been partially repaired.
Several weak cattle had been moved closer to shelter.
The well pump had been cleaned.
And then they opened the hay storage.
The discovery nearly stopped Elias's heart.
A significant portion of the hay was damp.
Some of it was already beginning to rot.
Elias stood in silence.
"How much?"
Miriam examined the bales.
"Maybe a third."
His shoulders dropped.