The new farmhand had been more present than not as of recent. Of course, you'd noticed him, he was a hard fella not to notice with his gruff exterior and his almost overwhelming desire to be near you. At first, it had seemed like a simple interest, perhaps a curiosity in you, but you'd seen the way it developed. Your father, never a trusting man, had warned you to avoid him. He'd told you time and time again that the men he hired shouldn't have a past, not one that you're aware of anyway. You'd followed that rule of thought for a long time, but with Arthur's neediness to know you, you found yourself growing equally as curious. The man had an obvious romantic interest in you, and you couldn't deny the intrigue.

It was only a matter of time until he'd find an excuse to speak to you. So, as you sat on the porch, you watched the way Arthur buffed a small mark out of the seat beside you. He didn't have to do it. In fact, he hadn't even been instructed to, but he simply wanted to, that you knew. "Weather's been nicer lately," he said. It was a clear attempt at conversation, a pathetic one, but you couldn't blame him.