“Why?”
The Bride looked toward the dark window.
“Because I had already planned to leave.”
That surprised him.
“Where?”
“Anywhere.”
“That is not a place.”
“It was more of a place than behind that counter.”
The Lone Rancher almost smiled.
Almost.
She continued.
“I saved money.”
“What happened?”
“My father found it.”
The Rancher’s amusement disappeared.
“He took it.”
“He said family money belonged to the family.”
“That is theft.”
“He called it repayment for raising me.”
The Lone Rancher stared at her.
The Bride looked embarrassed by something that was not hers to be embarrassed about.
“He used it against his debts.”
“And then offered you as another payment.”
“He didn’t offer me.”
She looked up sharply.
“I offered myself.”
The Lone Rancher frowned.
She continued.
“That matters to me.”
“Why?”
“Because I need at least one decision in this story to belong to me.”
That silenced him.
The Bride moved toward the table.
She sat across from the chair he had abandoned.
The Lone Rancher remained standing.
“You lost a card game.”
“Yes.”
“I chose the gamble.”
“Yes.”
“We both ended up somewhere we didn’t expect.”
He looked toward the hallway.
Two bedrooms.
One house.
One year.
“That makes this sound almost reasonable.”
“It isn’t.”
A brief smile appeared.
“Good.”
The Lone Rancher paced once.
Then stopped beside the stove.
“You want honesty?”
“Yes.”
“I did not want a wife.”
“I know.”
“I don’t know how to be one man to one woman every day.”
The Bride’s eyebrow lifted.
“That sentence sounded worse than you intended.”
He frowned.
“You know what I mean.”
“I think so.”
“I’ve spent years moving.”
“Cards.”
“Cards. Cattle jobs. Horses. Wherever paid.”
“And women?”
The Lone Rancher looked at her.
The Bride immediately regretted asking.
“Sorry.”
“No.”
He leaned against the table.
“There were women.”
She nodded.
He added, “None I promised anything to.”
The Bride surprised herself by feeling relieved.
He noticed.
She looked away.
He continued.
“I’m not pretending to be a good husband.”
“I’m not asking you to pretend.”
“I don’t know what you expect.”
“Respect.”
“That’s all?”
“For tonight.”
He almost laughed.
The Bride folded her hands.
“And honesty.”
“That might be harder.”
“Then practice.”
His eyes narrowed.
She smiled faintly.
The Lone Rancher looked toward the hallway again.
“You take the east bedroom.”
“All right.”
“I’ll use the small room behind the kitchen.”
“That’s your room.”
“Not anymore.”
She studied him.
“You don’t have to surrender your room.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
He struggled to answer without making it sound like kindness.
“It has the better roof.”
The Bride nodded as though accepting this obvious lie for what it was.
“One year.”
The Rancher said it firmly.
“One year,” she agreed.
“At the end, you can leave.”