“Why?” Ezekiel asked finally, voice low. “Why would you do that.”
Slade’s eyes cooled. “My Adelaide is… not popular. She’s twenty-six and still unmarried. Folks talk. They snicker. She’s got a good heart, but men are foolish about appearances. You, on the other hand, need cattle more than you need pride.”
A rough laugh from somewhere behind them. A man’s voice: “A cow for a bride, Ezekiel! Fair trade if she milks herself!”
More laughter. Ezekiel’s face burned, but he didn’t turn around. He focused on Slade’s ring, on the gold teeth, on the way a man like Slade made everything feel like a trap even when it sounded like salvation.
“She’s willing?” Ezekiel asked quietly, forcing the words out like swallowing glass.
Slade’s smile returned, crueler now. “She knows her options. She knows mine. Besides… what choice do either of you have now?”
Ezekiel’s whiskey tasted suddenly like ash.
He should’ve walked out.
