Dodge City exploded around them in dust, noise, railroad whistles, cattle, merchants, gamblers, saloons, and cowboys who suddenly remembered they had wages to spend.
After months on the trail, civilization felt almost unreal.
The three thousand longhorns were counted, inspected, negotiated over, and eventually sold.
Men who had lived day by day received envelopes containing months of pay.
Some celebrated immediately.
Others bought new boots.
A few headed toward saloons before Wilmer had finished handing out wages.
Katrina stood beside the chuck wagon feeling strangely empty.
The drive was over.
She had wanted that for months.
Now she wished for one more week.
Maybe one more day.
The camp began disappearing.
Bedrolls vanished.
Saddles were packed.
Men shook hands.
Addresses were exchanged between people who knew they might never write.
Nathan Pike hugged Katrina.
He had regained most of his strength, though his face remained thinner.
"You saved my life."
Katrina tried her familiar correction.
"Doc—"
Nathan shook his head.
"Doc saved my life. You saved my life. Luis saved my life. Maybe God saved my life. I don't see why only one person gets credit."
Katrina smiled.
"Fair enough."
Nathan handed her a small cloth bundle.
Inside was a silver coffee spoon.
"Bought it this morning."
"You need your money."
"So do you."
"I can't accept—"
"Please."
His voice softened.
"My mother gave me a silver spoon before I left home. Lost it crossing the Red River."
"So you bought me one?"
"Figured everybody ought to own one thing too fancy for ordinary days."
Katrina closed her fingers around it.
"Thank you."
Mendoza gave her a woven red scarf.
Otis gave her a new wooden rolling pin.
Caleb presented a set of spice tins.
Men kept arriving.
Small gifts.
Practical gifts.
Sometimes ridiculous ones.
Jeb came last.
He held nothing.
Katrina raised an eyebrow.
"No present?"
"No."
"Cheap."
"Very."
Then Jeb removed his hat.
"I wanted to give you something that doesn't cost money."
"That sounds suspicious."
He looked at the ground.
"When this drive started, I made your life harder because I thought making somebody else smaller made me bigger."
Katrina's expression softened.
"I was wrong."
Jeb looked at her.
"You never needed changing."
Her throat tightened.
"I did."
He shook his head.
"Not the way I thought."
He hugged her suddenly.
Katrina froze.
Jeb whispered, "Thank you for not letting me die when I deserved a punch more than soup."
She hugged him back.
"You didn't deserve to die."
"A punch?"
"Several."
He laughed.
When he pulled away, his eyes were wet.
"See you in Texas?"
Katrina blinked.
"Texas?"
"Boss hired me full-time."
Wilmer, standing twenty feet away, pretended not to hear.
Katrina laughed.
"So that's why you aren't sad."
"I'm deeply sad."
"You're terrible."
"Recovered completely."
By afternoon, only a dozen men remained around camp.
Katrina walked into Dodge City alone.
She needed to think.
Three job offers waited.
One from a hotel kitchen.
Better pay.
Another from a railroad contractor.
Excellent money.
A third from a cattle outfit heading south after summer.
And Wilmer's ranch.
That offer carried risks the others didn't.
Because Wilmer was not simply an employer anymore.
Katrina cared about him.
That frightened her.
She entered a general store, bought writing paper, and sat at a small table outside.
She wrote to nobody.
Her father was dead.
Still, she found herself writing to him.
Dear Papa,
You were right about strength.
She stopped.
Tears blurred the ink.
People spent years telling me mine was something ugly.
I believed them more than I knew.
Then a storm came.
And every part of me I had been taught to dislike became useful.
My arms carried water.
My shoulders carried meat.
My body stood against the wind.
My hands made what you taught me.
I wish you had seen it.
She wiped her face.
There is a man named Wilmer.
You would distrust him at first because you distrusted every man who looked at me longer than five seconds.
But I think eventually you'd like him.
That frightened her even written privately.
Katrina folded the letter.
She did not know where to send it.
So she tucked it beside her father's knives.
When she returned to camp, Wilmer was waiting.
"Walk?"
She nodded.
They followed the edge of the cattle pens until town noise faded.
Wilmer did not ask about her decision immediately.
Another thing she appreciated about him.
Finally Katrina spoke.
"I have offers."
"I figured."
"Hotel pays more."
"Probably."
"Railroad pays much more."
"Definitely."
"Your ranch is farther from town."
"Unfortunately."
"Your garden is terrible."
"Offensively so."
Katrina smiled.
"And your cowboys include Jeb."
"That's the strongest argument against us."
They stopped near a fence.
Katrina looked at him.
"What exactly are you offering?"
Wilmer understood the question beneath the question.
"A job first."
"And second?"
"A place where you're respected."
"Third?"
He took a breath.
"The possibility of something between us."
"Something?"
"I've discovered I'm less brave around you than stampeding cattle."
Katrina laughed.
Wilmer stepped closer.
"I'm offering patience."
Her laughter faded.
"I'm offering courtship if you want it. Friendship if you don't. Employment whether you choose either."
Katrina studied him.
"And if courtship goes badly?"
"You remain employed."
"If I reject you?"
"You remain employed."
"If I marry somebody else?"
Wilmer grimaced.
"I'll hate him privately and continue paying your wages."
She laughed.
"Very professional."
"I've had time to prepare."
Katrina's eyes grew moist.
"No man has ever made sure I knew I had choices before."
"You do."
She looked at the distant horizon.
"My whole life, I thought love—if it ever came—would be something I should be grateful somebody offered me."
Wilmer waited.
"Like I shouldn't ask too much because of how I look."
His jaw tightened.
Katrina continued.
"I don't believe that anymore."
"Good."
"So if I come to Texas, I'm not coming because I'm afraid nobody else will want me."
"Good."
"I'm not coming because you rescued me from Jeb."
"Good."
"And I'm definitely not coming because your garden sounds appealing."
"Understood."
She turned to him.
"I'm coming because I want to."
Wilmer's entire face changed.
"You're coming?"
"Yes."
"To work?"
"Yes."
He hesitated.
"And?"
Katrina smiled.
"You may court me."
Wilmer exhaled.
"Carefully."
"Very."
"Slowly."
"If you're capable."
He offered his arm.
She took it.
When they returned to camp, Jeb saw them.
He turned toward Tommy.
"Pay up."
Katrina stopped.
"You were betting?"
Jeb ran.
Katrina chased him around the wagon with a wooden spoon.
Months later, men would remember the sight of the woman who had saved them from starvation and exhaustion sprinting through camp while the trail boss laughed so hard he nearly fell against the chuck wagon.
But one challenge still waited.
Texas.
Wilmer's ranch.
A permanent home.
And the question Katrina had never dared ask herself:
What would life look like when survival was no longer the only thing she had to think about?