"Is it that obvious?"
"I've lived in Dawson County my whole life. I'd remember auburn hair and a fiddle that can make a half-empty barn sound full."
She smiled at that, smaller this time. "I rented the Sanders place for the winter. Thought I'd write some songs and teach a few lessons. Turns out Thanksgiving in a town this size means everybody already has a table, and the band that was supposed to play tonight got stuck in Grand Island with a broken axle. Mrs. Henshaw found my number on a bulletin board at the feed store. Said a fiddle and a prayer might keep the night from dying completely."
"Mrs. Henshaw collects strays," Walt said. "Dogs. Orphans. Ranchers who forget how to dance."
"And fiddle players with no family dinner," Ruth said. "Lucky me."