Chapter 10
In Plain Sight
Sunday morning came soft and clear in pale streaks over the ridge. Tessa stood at the sink, drying the last of the breakfast dishes while Eli struggled into a clean shirt behind her.
“Buttons don’t like me,” he muttered.
“They just need patience,” she said.
“Sam says they need bigger buttonholes.”
She hid a smile and turned to help him. Scout lay under the table, chin on his paws, watching as if the boy’s success with buttons mattered to him personally.
Sam stepped in from the porch, sleeves rolled, hair damp from the pump. He took in the scene with one glance—Eli squirming, Tessa leaning close, Scout overseeing.
“You two about ready?” he asked.
Eli nodded. “Almost. She’s fixing the buttons that won’t mind me.”
Sam’s gaze shifted to Tessa. “Abby said folks are gathering in town early. Thought we’d ride in for service and pick up supplies after.”
Tessa’s fingers stilled on the last button. “You want Eli to go with you.”
“I want both of you there,” Sam said.
She looked back at the dish towel instead. “I can stay and get things done here.”
“House won’t fall apart in one morning.” His tone was mild, but she heard the weight underneath. “You’ve been here three weeks. It’s time folks see you’re with us.”
The word with settled heavily in her chest like something she wasn’t sure she was allowed to claim.
Eli twisted to face her. “Please come. I want you there.”
Her mind supplied the memory of six months in town—side glances, hushed talk, people stepping around her like she’d spill trouble on their boots. She’d grown used to slipping into the boarding house kitchen early, keeping her head down, pretending she didn’t hear.
Now Sam was asking her to walk straight into a crowded room at his side.
“I don’t know if that’s wise,” she said quietly.
Sam didn’t argue. He reached for his hat on the peg and spoke without looking at her.
“Reed’s already standing up for you. Jo and Abby are too. And Mrs. Harlan told half the boarding house you were the best help she’d had in years.” He turned then, eyes steady. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Tessa. You shouldn’t act like you did.”
Her throat tightened.
Eli tried again, softer. “If anyone looks mean, you can sit between me and Sam. We’re a good wall.”
That almost pulled a laugh out of her.
She wiped her hands on the towel. “All right. I’ll come.”
Eli whooped and bolted for the door.
Scout jumped up as if the matter were settled.
They took the wagon instead of saddling three horses. Eli bounced on the bench between them; hands wrapped around the worn board. Tessa sat close enough that her skirt brushed Sam’s trouser leg when the road dipped. He didn’t shift away.
“Scout, stay,” Sam called as the dog tried to hop into the back.
Scout froze, clearly offended.
“Guard the house,” Tessa added.
That seemed to help. Scout trotted to the porch and sat, watching them roll down the lane, ears pricked forward until they dipped out of sight.
The road into town felt shorter than it used to. Maybe because she wasn’t walking it alone. Eli talked nearly the whole way—about the colt, about the boarding house meals, about how Rafe always looked too serious on Sundays until Abby nudged him.
When they reached the churchyard, people were already gathering. Reed and Jo stood near the steps, talking quietly with Sheriff Abrams. Reed lifted a hand the moment he saw them—no badge, no vest, just Reed being Reed, steady as a fencepost.
“Morning,” he called. “Sam. Eli. Tessa.”
Sheriff Abrams nodded once. “Good to see you all.”
Hearing her name spoken openly, with no whispering, no sidelong looks, felt strange. Good, but strange.
Eli hopped down. “Sheriff, did you hear anything more about the transfer?”
Abrams shook his head. “Line’s quiet. Wire says no trouble.”
Sam helped Tessa down with a securing hand. He didn’t drop it right away.
Jo and Abby crossed the yard to meet them—Abby with a basket, Jo with her easy stride and sharper eyes.
“There you are,” Abby said. “Saved seats for all three of you.”
“For Sam,” Tessa said quickly.
“For all three,” Abby corrected.
Jo grinned. “Figured Eli would mutiny otherwise.”
***
Inside, the church smelled of pine boards, lamp oil, and pressed Sunday clothes. Tessa would’ve chosen a back bench by habit, but Abby steered them toward the middle. Rafe and Reed shifted to make room.
Eli wedged himself between Jo and Tessa. Sam took the spot on Tessa’s other side. She realized then what Eli meant—they’d built a wall around her.
Voices rose and fell as people settled. She caught a few curious glances. Not the old flinch. Not quite easy either. But not cruel.
Mrs. Harlan entered last with two boarders trailing behind. The boarding house keeper saw Tessa and gave her a bright, approving smile—as if she’d chosen well by switching over to the Fletcher place.
That alone eased something inside her.
After the service, people spilled into the yard. Reed stood with Rafe, talking about fence lines. Sheriff Abrams shook Sam’s hand. Mrs. Harlan beelined to Tessa.
“Well, you look better rested,” she said with a warm glance. “Sam feeding you well?”
Tessa flushed. “I’m cooking half the time.”
“Then you’re feeding him well,” the woman corrected. “If you ever want hours at the boarding house kitchen during branding week, you say the word.”
Sam nodded. “If she wants to go, she goes.”
Eli added, “As long as she comes back.”
Mrs. Harlan laughed. “Oh, she isn’t going far. The Fletcher ranch has a way of keeping good souls.”
A pair of women whispered on the far side of the yard. Tessa stiffened—until Reed stepped into their sightline, quiet and firm, saying something low. Whatever it was, both women stopped whispering.
One even nodded at Tessa as she passed.
Jo slipped beside her. “You’re doing good.”
“I felt like everyone was staring.”
“Then let them stare,” Jo said. “You walked in steady. That’s more than most can say after what you’ve been through.”
Abby touched her arm. “And you walked out with people on your side. That’s what matters.”
***
On the ride home, Eli dozed against Tessa’s shoulder, Scout waiting at the porch as if he’d never doubted their return. Sam slowed the team to a comfortable pace.
“You did good today,” he said quietly.
“That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”
“You don’t believe it yet.”
“I’m trying.”
He glanced over. “Walking into a place that once judged you? That’s harder than any gunfight I ever fought.”
She didn’t know what to do with a sentence like that.
As they rolled up the lane, Scout whined, circling the wagon.
“See?” Eli murmured sleepily. “He knew you’d come back.”
Tessa stepped down and rested her hand on Scout’s head. “I wasn’t gone long.”
Sam set the brake and came around the wagon. “Doesn’t take long for someone to be missed.”
The word someone made her chest ache.
That night, standing on the porch with coffee warming her hands, she looked over the ridge and felt a quiet shift—like a door she’d been bracing shut had opened a crack on its own.
Sam joined her, leaning on the rail.
“You’ll go next Sunday?” he asked.
She thought of the glances that softened, the nods she received, the warmth from Abby and Jo, the steady presence of Sam and Eli.
“Yes,” she said. “I think I will.”
Sam nodded, satisfied. “Good.”
And for the first time, Tessa felt like she might just belong.