Then kissed her gently.
When he drew back, he rested his forehead against hers.
“Darling,” he whispered, “I think I'd like to make a home with you.”
Her breath caught.
He smiled faintly.
“Not yours disappearing into mine. Not mine replacing yours.”
He looked toward the cabin.
“Something we decide together.”
She stared at him.
Then whispered, “I'd like that too.”
He smiled.
“Good.”
She looked toward the wagon.
“What have you brought?”
His grin widened.
“Timber. Nails. Tools. A proper iron brace for that damaged roof.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“All that?”
He nodded.
“And a few things for the plans we drew.”
She smiled.
Then her expression turned playful.
“Did you bring coffee?”
He looked offended.
“Of course.”
She laughed.
“Then perhaps you can stay.”
He smiled.
“Planning on it.”
But as he stepped inside, he noticed the dampness near the lower wall.
He stopped.
Then crouched.
His expression changed.
“What's happening here?”
The woman looked toward the floor.
“The spring runoff's been collecting beside the storage room.”
He examined the timber.
Then the foundation.
His smile disappeared.
The ground beneath the cabin was beginning to move.
And if the next heavy rain arrived before they stabilized the drainage and supports, the home they had only just begun imagining together might not survive.
The rancher remained crouched beside the damp floorboards for several minutes, examining the place where the outer wall met the foundation.
He pressed his hand against one of the lower timbers.
The wood was wet.
Beneath it, the earth had softened considerably.
A narrow crack had appeared where the stone foundation joined the supporting posts.
He followed the crack toward the storage room.
Then he looked toward the woman.
“How long has the water been collecting here?”
She swallowed.
“Several days.”
“Has the floor moved?”
“A little.”
He looked up sharply.
“How much?”
She hesitated.
“Enough that the storage door doesn't close properly.”
He stood.
“Darling, that's not good.”
“I know.”
He walked toward the door and examined the frame.
The lower corner had shifted.
The cabin was not in immediate danger of collapsing, but the movement suggested that the ground beneath part of the structure had become unstable.
Another heavy rainfall could make the problem much worse.
He looked toward the window.
The clouds were gathering again.
Then he turned toward the woman.
“We need a plan.”
She nodded.
“I've already made one.”
He stared.
She pointed toward the table.
Several pages lay beneath the little carved picture frame.