Chapter 28
No rescue.
No obligation.
Just us.
I closed my fingers around the money.
“All right.”
She looked surprised.
“You’ll take it?”
“Yes.”
Her face fell slightly.
I put the money into my pocket.
Then took out my wallet.
I added another fifty dollars.
I handed the hundred to her.
She stared.
“What is this?”
“Half the spring supplies.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You paid me back.”
“Yes.”
“So now you’re my equal partner.”
“Wyatt.”
“The roof needs shingles. We need seed. You want two more hens. I want a new mule.”
“I never agreed to a mule.”
“See? Partnership.”
She stared at the money.
Then she began laughing.
Not the guarded laugh I had first heard.
Not the surprised laugh from our worst days.
A full, helpless laugh that bent her forward.
I laughed too.
When she finally looked up, her eyes were wet.
“You impossible man.”
“You married me.”
“Yes.”
The word changed everything.
Not because she had said it before.
She had.
At the preacher’s table.
On paper.
Under pressure from fear.
This yes was different.
I went still.
“Say that again.”
Her smile faded into something softer.
“I married you.”
“Past tense.”
She understood what I was asking.
Spring sunlight caught in her dark hair.
Behind her, the mountain rose green where snow had begun retreating.
She stepped close enough to take my hands.
“I am staying, Wyatt.”
I could not speak.
She squeezed my fingers.
“Not because I am hiding.”
I swallowed.
“Good.”
“Not because you paid for the journey.”
“Good.”
“Not because I need protection.”
“That one hurts a little.”
She smiled.
“I am staying because this is my home.”
My eyes burned.
I blamed the wind.
“And because,” she added, “for reasons I still find deeply questionable, I love you.”
I stared.
“You could sound happier about it.”
“I’m trying to be honest.”
“There’s such a thing as excessive honesty.”
“You demanded it.”
“That was before it became inconvenient.”
She kissed me.
I dropped my cane.
Neither of us bothered picking it up for a while.
Years later, people sometimes asked how Cora and I met.
She always told them I purchased her for fifty dollars.
I always corrected her.
“I paid fifty dollars for the train fare.”
She would raise an eyebrow.
“You also expected a wife.”
“I got one.”
“You expected a quiet wife.”
That part was true.
I had imagined someone gentle.