The Mountain Woman turned.
“I'm also better at biscuits.”
The woman laughed.
The Mountain Man added:
“True.”
The Mountain Woman looked at him.
“You contributed nothing.”
“I ate them.”
That afternoon, trouble arrived.
A wealthy ranch owner entered the mercantile.
His son followed.
The son was young.
Handsome enough.
Dressed too cleanly.
He stared at the Mountain Woman.
Not kindly.
Recognition slowly appeared.
“You're the eighth?”
The room quieted.
The Mountain Woman knew exactly what he meant.
Bride eight.
She smiled without warmth.
“Apparently.”
The rancher's son looked at the Mountain Man.
“Finally found one sturdy enough?”
Several men looked away.
The Mountain Man’s face became expressionless.
That frightened everyone except the fool speaking.
The Mountain Woman touched the Mountain Man’s arm.
Not to protect the rancher’s son.
To remind her partner she could answer for herself.
She looked at the young man.
“Funny.”
“What?”
“Your father needed four hired men to unload grain last week.”
The rancher's son frowned.
“So?”
“I unloaded nearly the same weight with the Mountain Man in half the time.”
A man near the stove laughed.
The young man’s face reddened.
The Mountain Woman continued:
“If sturdy is the insult you brought, you should've chosen one I dislike.”
More laughter.
The rancher's son looked toward the Mountain Man.
“You let your woman talk for you?”
The Mountain Man finally spoke.
“She talks better.”
The mercantile erupted.
The young man left furious.
The Mountain Woman looked at the Mountain Man.
“That was almost romantic.”
“Almost?”
“Try harder.”
He shook his head.
They returned home before dark.
Halfway up the trail, the Mountain Man stopped.
The Mountain Woman turned.
“What?”
He looked troubled.
“That man.”
“What about him?”
“His father owns half the lower valley.”
“I know.”
“He’s used to getting apologies.”
“He won't receive one.”
The Mountain Man smiled.
“Figured.”
Then serious again.
“They can make trouble.”
“So can weather.”
The Mountain Man studied her.
“You’re not afraid of anything.”
The Mountain Woman laughed.
“I'm afraid of plenty.”
“Like?”
She looked at him.
“Being sent away.”
His face changed.
The Mountain Woman regretted saying it.
Too honest.
The Mountain Man stepped closer.
“You think I’ll send you away?”
She shrugged.
“You sent seven.”
“You're not them.”
“That's not a promise.”
He looked toward the mountain.
Then back.
“I don't know how to promise things.”
“Learn.”
He stared.
The Mountain Woman waited.
Finally, he said:
“You're staying if you want to.”
Her eyes filled.
The Mountain Man looked alarmed.
“Why are you crying?”