Chapter 18 - A Place at the Table
Cole did not propose marriage.
Not that night.
Maggie would later tell him that was the smartest thing he ever did.
Instead he asked, “Can I court you?”
She stared.
“Court me?”
“Yes.”
“You've been sitting at my wagon drinking free coffee for two months.”
“I was building courage.”
“You were stealing coffee.”
“That too.”
Maggie smiled.
“What does courting involve?”
“I don't know.”
“Promising start.”
“Dinner?”
“I cook.”
“Then somebody else cooks.”
“Flowers?”
“We've been on prairie for months. You wouldn't recognize one.”
“I could learn.”
She laughed.
Then became serious.
“Yes.”
Cole's expression softened.
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
He reached for her hand.
She let him take it.
The following weeks changed everything.
The men scattered.
Some returned to Texas.
Some took new cattle jobs.
Levi stayed with Whitaker.
Pete accepted a permanent position as lead trail cook after Maggie swore she never wanted to see another chuck wagon unless it was parked outside a window.
Amos retired.
Billy Carter sent his mother nearly all the money he had earned.
Noah refused to spend his savings until they reached Amarillo.
Then he bought a pair of boots.
Maggie stared at them.
“How much?”
He told her.
She nearly fainted.
“They're good boots.”
“They should walk by themselves for that price.”
Noah grinned.
Whitaker paid for rail passage home.
Maggie spent most of the journey looking out the window.
The land moved differently when seen from a train.
Faster.
For years, her life had been measured by what could be carried.
Now she allowed herself to imagine staying.
In Amarillo, Maggie found a vacant building near the stockyards.
It had once been a bakery.
The roof leaked.
One window was cracked.
The floor leaned slightly.
Maggie fell in love with it immediately.
“No,” Noah said.
“Yes.”
“The roof.”
“Repairable.”
“The floor.”
“Repairable.”
“The smell.”
“Also repairable.”
Cole walked through the kitchen.
“Chimney's good.”
Maggie smiled triumphantly.
Noah groaned.
“You're both insane.”
Silas arrived two days later.
He inspected the building.
“How much?”
Maggie told him.
“Too much.”
“That's what I said,” Noah replied.
Silas walked outside, argued with the landlord for twenty minutes, and returned with a price fifteen percent lower.
Maggie stared.
“How?”
Silas looked offended.
“I've bought land before.”
The business arrangement took three days.
Maggie insisted on owning the majority.
Silas insisted that if he invested, he received proper repayment.
Cole insisted on being included.
Maggie asked what he contributed.
“Labor.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“Tables.”
She laughed.
But he meant it.
Cole had woodworking experience from ranch repairs.
He built twelve tables.
Noah helped.
Silas pretended not to.
Then Maggie caught him sanding a chair one morning.
He claimed he was “testing the wood.”
The restaurant opened six weeks later.
They called it Reed's Table.
Maggie rejected every fancy alternative.
“I want people to know whose place it is.”
Cole smiled.
“So do I.”
The first morning nobody came.
At seven-thirty Maggie stood behind the counter pretending not to worry.
At eight, one rancher entered.
Coffee.
Eggs.
Biscuits.
At eight-fifteen, three railroad men.
At nine, six cowboys.
By noon, every table was filled.
Maggie moved through the kitchen with calm precision.
No dust.
No canvas.
No wheels.
Real walls.
A pantry.
An iron stove.
Windows.
She nearly cried twice.
Refused both times.
Then the front door opened.
Amos Dyer walked in.
Behind him came Billy Carter.
Then Clay Mercer.
Then Pete.
Then Levi.
Maggie stopped.
“What are you doing here?”
Amos sat.
“Heard breakfast was decent.”
“You rode all the way from Texas?”
“Train.”
Billy grinned.
“Silas paid.”
Maggie looked toward the door.
Silas entered last.
Cole beside him.
Maggie's eyes filled.
Silas shrugged.
“Opening day.”
“You arranged this?”
“Maybe.”
Nearly forty men from the old drive filled the restaurant.
Not two hundred.
But enough.
They ordered breakfast.
When Maggie placed the first plate in front of Amos, he picked up his fork.
Everyone watched.
He looked at the biscuit.
Squeezed it.
Soft.
“Acceptable.”
The room erupted in laughter.
Later, after closing, Maggie sat alone at one of Cole's tables.
Her feet hurt.
Her back hurt.
Her kitchen was a disaster.
She had never been happier.
Cole entered carrying two cups of coffee.
He placed one before her.
“Still want this?”
She looked around.
“Yes.”
“Even after today?”
“Especially after today.”
He sat.
“What about me?”
Maggie looked at him.
“What about you?”
“Still want me around?”
She pretended to consider.
“For tables.”
“Cruel woman.”
“You knew that.”
Cole reached into his pocket.
Maggie immediately pointed at him.
“No.”
He froze.
“What?”
“If that's a ring, put it back.”
He slowly returned his hand to his pocket.
Maggie laughed.
Cole stared.
“You're enjoying this.”
“A little.”
“Am I ever allowed to ask?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“When I'm not covered in flour, haven't worked fourteen hours, and have enough energy to remember what you said.”
Cole nodded seriously.
“Fair.”
Three weeks later, on a quiet Sunday morning before opening, he tried again.
No customers.
No cattle.
No crisis.
He stood in the kitchen Maggie had built.
She wore a clean blue dress.
He took her hand.
This time she let him reach into his pocket.
“Maggie Reed.”
“Yes?”
“I have no speech.”
“Excellent beginning.”
He laughed nervously.
“I spent years believing the important thing was inheriting a good life.”
Maggie's expression softened.
“Then I met a woman who built one out of four dollars, a stubborn brother, and terrible biscuits.”
“My biscuits improved.”
“They did.”
He held out the ring.
“I don't want to inherit my future anymore.”
His voice lowered.
“I want to build it with you.”
Maggie's eyes filled.
“Will you marry me?”
She looked at the ring.
Then at Cole.
“Yes.”
He smiled.
She added, “But I'm keeping Reed on the sign.”
Cole laughed.
“I expected nothing less.”
Their wedding was scheduled for spring.
And one man worried more about it than either bride or groom.
Silas Whitaker.
Because for the first time in his life, the rich cattleman had been given responsibility for something no amount of money could guarantee.
May you like
Making Maggie's wedding day perfect.
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