I guided the wagon toward the improved platform.
Then helped arrange a safe transfer into the cabin.
We'd spent part of the journey planning additional changes.
A wider entrance.
A sturdier outdoor path.
A second worktable large enough for Josephine's sewing and pattern drafting.
And proper storage for the supplies she hoped to sell through merchants in town.
The plans required money and labor.
But we had both.
I had savings from my cattle years.
Josephine had her inheritance and growing earnings from her designs.
And several people we'd met during the legal proceedings offered to help with the construction.
For the first time, I could imagine the cabin becoming more than a place where one lonely man waited for winter to pass.
It could become a home filled with work, laughter, visitors, and the ordinary arguments that make two people learn each other properly.
Josephine looked around the room.
Then turned toward me.
"Are you happy?"
I considered the question.
For twenty years, I wouldn't have known how to answer.
Now I smiled.
"Yes."
She studied me.
Then grinned.
"Good."
I proposed on the last Sunday of July.
There was no crowd.
No grand speech.
And no expensive ring purchased from a fashionable jeweler.
I'd asked a silversmith in town to make a simple band using a small piece of silver I'd kept from my cattle-driving days.
He polished it carefully and engraved a tiny mountain flower along the inside.
I brought it home wrapped in cloth.
Then spent two days trying to find the courage to ask.
Josephine noticed immediately.
She watched me misplace tools, forget why I'd entered the stable, and stare at her as though I was preparing for a difficult negotiation.
Finally, she put down her sewing.
"Hiram Walker."
I turned.
"Yes?"
"What are you hiding?"
I frowned.
"Nothing."
She raised one eyebrow.
"You've been hiding something for two days."
I sighed.
Then reached into my vest pocket.
For a moment, my hands trembled.
Josephine stared.
I took the ring from its wrapping.
Then knelt carefully beside her chair.
"Josephine."
Her eyes widened.
I swallowed.
"I don't have a grand house. I don't have youth to offer you. And I can't promise every day will be easy."
Tears gathered in her eyes.
I continued.
"But I can promise honesty. A place beside me. And every bit of love this old heart has left."
My voice broke.
"Will you marry me?"
Josephine covered her mouth.