“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I want to educate them.”
“With your fists?”
“Very memorable lessons.”
“You will not fight men because they insult me.”
“What if I want to?”
“Then grow up.”
He smiled.
“You like ordering me.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
She tried not to smile.
Failed.
Winter approached.
One evening he arrived with a broken cart axle.
Not his.
Belonged to a widow who lived outside town.
The replacement would cost money she did not have.
The woman examined it.
“Bring the cart tomorrow.”
“You can fix it?”
“I can redesign the joint.”
The mountain man looked at her.
“You said you stopped engineering.”
“I did.”
“You’re about to engineer.”
“I’m repairing.”
“With calculations.”
“Repairing intelligently.”
He smiled.
She spent two days building a reinforced sleeve assembly using scrap iron and hardwood.
It worked.
The widow cried.
The woman hated crying.
Then word spread.
A sawmill owner came with a feed mechanism problem.
She refused.
He returned.
She refused again.
A farmer asked about a water wheel losing power.
She said no.
The mountain man watched.
Finally:
“You’re hiding.”
She glared.
“I am living.”
“Same thing?”
“Not remotely.”
“You solve every mechanical problem you see.”
“In my head.”
“Then why not with your hands?”
“Because the last time I did, eleven people died.”
“They died because somebody ignored you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No.”
Her voice rose.
“You know what I told you.”
He stepped closer.
“That’s enough.”
She shook her head violently.
“No.”
“What if I missed something?”
“You warned them.”
“What if my calculation contained an error too?”
“Did it?”
She froze.
He waited.
“No.”
“Then stop sentencing yourself for another man’s greed.”
She slapped him.
The sound shocked both.
Her eyes widened immediately.
The mountain man did not move.
The woman stepped back.
“I’m sorry.”
He touched his cheek.
“Not your best argument.”
“I said I’m sorry.”
“I heard.”
She turned away.
Tears came.
She hated them.
He approached slowly.
“Can I touch you?”
The question broke something.
She nodded.
He wrapped both arms around her.
The woman stood rigid for three seconds.
Then collapsed into him emotionally if not physically.
Her face pressed against his chest.
His chin rested against her hair.
She cried.
Not delicately.
Years did not leave delicately.
When she finally stopped, he whispered:
“Better?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She laughed through tears.
“You’re terrible at comfort.”
“I warned you about twelve years without practice.”