"I meant what I said. She'd want you dancing."
Walt looked at the frosted field beyond the barn, at the open doors still spilling lantern light onto gravel. "I know. Knowing and doing aren't the same country."
"No," Ruth said. "But you crossed the border tonight." She hesitated, then added, "There's a diner in Lexington that opens early on Fridays. If a rancher happened to be buying feed tomorrow and happened to need coffee—"
"I happen to need coffee most mornings," Walt said.
"Good." She climbed into the truck, started the engine, and for a moment the headlights lit his sheepskin vest and the brass buckle and the hat he had settled back onto his head. Then she drove away down the county road, taillights shrinking like two small coals.