“That was employment with possible marriage.”
“That isn’t how I read it.”
“That explains the first four days.”
He sighed.
The Mountain Woman folded her arms.
“Ask.”
The Mountain Man looked around the cabin as though searching for assistance.
None appeared.
Finally, he took her hand.
Rough fingers around hers.
He lowered himself onto one knee.
The Mountain Woman’s mouth opened.
He looked uncomfortable.
Very.
Perfect.
He said:
“You came up here when everyone expected you to fail.”
“You worked harder than I had any right to ask.”
“You made this cabin into something I miss whenever I’m outside too long.”
Her eyes filled.
The Mountain Man continued:
“You yell.”
She frowned.
“You throw bread.”
“That happened once.”
“You move everything I own.”
“Because you put things in stupid places.”
“You argue about every instruction.”
“Continue carefully.”
His mouth curved.
Then seriousness returned.
“You are the strongest person I know.”
The Mountain Woman stopped breathing.
He looked up.
“I don't want a bride who needs me to save her.”
“I want the woman who saves half the work before I even know it needs doing.”
He squeezed her hand.
“Marry me because you want to.”
“Not because of the advertisement.”
“Not because you need somewhere.”
“Not because winter's hard.”
“Stay because this is yours too.”
Tears spilled down the Mountain Woman’s cheeks.
The Mountain Man looked alarmed.
“Bad?”
She laughed.
“No.”
“Then?”
“Yes.”
He stood so quickly he almost knocked the table over.
The Mountain Woman laughed harder.
He wrapped his arms around her.
Lifted her slightly.
Not far.
Enough to surprise both.
The Mountain Woman said:
“Careful.”
He immediately lowered her.
She smiled.
“I didn't say stop.”
His eyes darkened.
“Woman.”
She kissed him before he could say anything else.
They married in town two weeks later.
No elegant ceremony.
No large crowd.
The local preacher.
Mercantile owners.
Several ranch families.
The Mountain Woman wore a plain deep-blue dress she altered herself.
No elaborate floral print.
No delicate lace trying to make her appear smaller than she was.
She refused.
Her body had carried her up six miles of mountain.
Split oak.
Hauled water.
Cleaned cellars.
Delivered a foal.
Survived winter.
She would not spend her wedding disguising it.
The Mountain Man wore a clean dark coat.
His beard remained mostly untamed.
The Mountain Woman had negotiated a small trim.
He considered that great sacrifice.
At the ceremony, the same mercantile man who had laughed the day she arrived stood near the back.
Afterward, he approached awkwardly.
“Ma’am.”
The Mountain Woman looked at him.
He removed his hat.
“Guess we were wrong.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“About?”
He looked embarrassed.
“How long you'd last.”
The Mountain Woman glanced toward her Husband.
The Mountain Man stood outside loading supplies.
She smiled.