Not much.
Enough.
Mabel’s cheeks warmed.
He asked:
“What did it mean?”
She almost laughed from nerves.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s fair.”
His hands remained away from her.
Mabel found herself disappointed.
That realization frightened her more than the scar.
She turned forward again.
“Finish the laces.”
Elias did.
By the time he tied them loosely, Mabel could fill her lungs.
She exhaled.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Neither mentioned how long his hands had lingered near her back.
Elias climbed onto the wagon bench.
He took the reins.
Mabel looked down at her skirt.
Then toward him.
“Do you regret it?”
He glanced over.
“Marriage?”
“Yes.”
“We’ve been married two hours.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
He clicked his tongue and the horses began moving.
Mabel watched him.
“No, you don’t regret it?”
“No, I don’t know enough yet to regret it.”
She stared.
Then laughed.
It escaped before she could stop it.
Elias looked surprised.
“What?”
“You could lie.”
“Why?”
“New husbands usually say something kinder.”
“Would you believe me?”
Mabel considered.
“No.”
“Then there’s no point.”
That answer should have annoyed her.
Instead, strangely, it calmed her.
Honesty was less beautiful than charm.
It was also safer.
The wagon climbed toward Black Ridge.
Two hours later, they turned into a canyon so narrow the setting sun disappeared behind the western wall.
Mabel saw a creek first.
Clear water over stone.
Then a meadow.
Then the house.
She sat straighter.
“You live there?”
Elias nodded.
She had expected something primitive.
A shack perhaps.
Dark.
Dirty.
A lair suitable for the monster described in every Red Ridge rumor.
Instead, the Graves homestead stood beneath tall pines on a low rise above the creek.
Not elegant.
But strong.
Hand-hewn logs.
Stone chimney.
Wide porch.
A barn large enough for six horses.
Smokehouse.
Wood shed.
Garden already cut back for autumn.
Two apple trees yellowing beside the fence.
Someone had cared for the place.
Mabel looked at Elias.
“You built that?”
“Most.”
“Alone?”
“Mostly.”
She studied the house again.
“Why so large?”
Elias’s jaw shifted.
“Thought I might need the room someday.”
Mabel recognized the evasive answer and did not push.
The wagon stopped.
Elias climbed down.
He came around to her side.
Mabel looked at the ground.
The wagon was high.
At Red Ridge, the townspeople had waited eagerly for this exact problem.
She remembered their laughter.
Her stomach tightened.
Elias raised one hand.
“Want help?”
Mabel looked at him.
Not Need help?
Want.
“Yes.”
She took his hand.
He placed the other at her forearm.
“Step onto the wheel hub.”
She did.
“Now lean toward me.”
She hesitated.
Elias waited.
Mabel leaned.