The Rancher covered furniture.
Wind slammed against the door.
Then water began pouring near the stove.
The Rancher grabbed a ladder.
The Bride blocked him.
“No.”
“Move.”
“You are not climbing on a roof in lightning.”
“If I don’t, we lose the kitchen.”
“If lightning hits you, we lose a husband.”
Both froze.
She had said it without thinking.
Husband.
Not as sarcasm.
Not a title required by paper.
Concern.
The Rancher’s expression changed.
The Bride flushed.
“Don’t make me regret that.”
He smiled slightly.
“Hold the ladder.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Her eyes widened.
The Rancher realized what he had said.
Then escaped into the rain before she could answer.
The Bride held the ladder while he repaired enough roof to prevent collapse.
Rain soaked them both.
His hands slipped twice.
She shouted.
He shouted back.
The house survived.
Barely.
By midnight, the front rooms were unusable.
They sat in the back room beneath one dry blanket.
Close.
Too close for two people determined not to notice each other.
Thunder rolled.
The Bride’s shoulder touched his.
She did not move.
The Rancher did not either.
Minutes passed.
Then she spoke.
“I was supposed to leave three months ago.”
The Rancher turned slightly.
“Colorado?”
“Yes.”
“You had a place?”
“No.”
“A job?”
“No.”
“Excellent planning.”
The Bride smiled faintly.
“I had enough money for a stagecoach.”
“Until your father took it.”
“Yes.”
“What would you have done after arriving?”
“Found work.”
“How?”
“I can work.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
She nudged him with her shoulder.
“I would have figured it out.”
The Rancher believed her.
That was the surprising part.
The Bride looked toward the wall.
“I didn’t expect this.”
“Marriage?”
“Any of it.”
A pause.
“You.”
The Rancher’s breathing shifted.
“What did you expect?”
“An angry gambler.”
“Fair.”
“A man who resented me.”
“Also fair.”
“Someone waiting for the year to end.”
The Rancher looked down.
She continued.
“You bought me books.”
He smiled despite himself.
“That ruined my reputation?”
“Completely.”
Silence returned.
Then the Rancher said, “I didn’t come home for the house.”
The Bride looked over.
“What?”
“This afternoon.”
“You mean before the storm?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you come back?”
He stared toward the door.
He could lie.
She would know.
He hated that.
“Because you were here.”
The Bride stopped breathing.
The Rancher continued before he lost courage.
“I’ve ridden through worse weather.”
“I know.”
“I could have stayed at the bunkhouse near town.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t want you here alone.”
The Bride’s fingers moved beneath the blanket.
They touched his hand.