When they separated, both were breathless.
Margaret rested her forehead against his.
“You know.”
“What?”
“For an old man, you recover surprisingly well.”
Thomas stared.
Margaret laughed and slipped away before he could respond.
He caught her around the waist.
She squealed.
“Thomas.”
“You’ve become disrespectful.”
“I was always disrespectful.”
“True.”
He kissed her again.
By January, Thomas had decided to propose.
Then spent three weeks determining how.
Ruth, Margaret’s closest friend, found this hilarious.
“You already told her you love her.”
“Yes.”
“She loves you.”
“Yes.”
“You’re courting.”
“Yes.”
“And you think the proposal requires military planning?”
Thomas frowned.
“I want it right.”
Ruth laughed.
“You’re hopeless.”
Thomas bought a ring from a jeweler in Durango.
Simple gold.
No elaborate stone.
Margaret worked with horses and fences.
Anything too delicate would annoy her.
He carried it in his coat for nine days.
Margaret noticed immediately that something was wrong.
“You keep touching that pocket.”
“No.”
“You do.”
“Cold.”
“Your pocket is cold?”
“Margaret.”
She smiled.
Then waited.
Thomas eventually chose the north fence.
The same place where he first crossed to kiss her.
Snow lay thin across the field.
Margaret arrived wearing a dark-green wool dress and heavy cloak.
Thomas stood beside the fence.
She looked around.
“You dragged me half a mile into snow.”
“Yes.”
“Should I be concerned?”
“Yes.”
She stared.
Thomas realized that sounded bad.
“Not like that.”
Margaret laughed.
He removed his hat.
Her laughter stopped.
Thomas reached into his coat.
“I’ve been thinking.”
Margaret groaned.
“Not again.”
“Let me finish.”
She smiled.
“All right.”
Thomas looked at the ring.
Then at her.
“I cannot promise you the years I wish I could.”
Margaret’s expression softened.
“But whatever years I have are yours if you want them.”
He swallowed.
“I want mornings with you.”
“Arguments with you.”
“Tuesday pie.”
“Thursday coffee.”
“I want you correcting my accounts and insulting my cooking.”
“You insult your cooking yourself.”
“Margaret.”
“Sorry.”
Thomas smiled.
“I want you in the house because you choose it.”
“Not because anyone thinks you need a husband.”
“And I want to be your husband because I choose you.”
He held out the ring.
“Marry me.”
Margaret looked down.
Then back up.
“No arithmetic?”
“No.”
“No speech about Daniel Marsh?”