“I love you too.”
She began crying.
He smiled through his own tears.
Then he leaned forward and kissed her gently.
When they separated, she laughed softly.
“You could've told me sooner.”
He chuckled.
“I've been working up the courage.”
She touched his beard.
“Mountain men are terribly slow.”
He smiled.
“Only with important things.”
The next morning, the rain returned.
It began gently.
Then grew heavier.
Water streamed from the roof and collected in the low ground beside the storage room.
The rancher inspected the drainage channel.
It was carrying some of the runoff away, but the earth beneath the outer foundation remained unstable.
By midday, the storage-room door had shifted farther out of alignment.
Then came a sound that made both of them freeze.
A deep crack.
Not from the roof.
From below.
The rancher looked toward the lower wall.
One supporting post had moved slightly.
He immediately turned toward the woman.
“We're leaving.”
She looked toward the room.
The table.
The fireplace.
The shelves she'd built around her daily life.
For several seconds, she couldn't move.
He approached.
“Darling.”
She looked at him.
“We should go before the ground moves any more.”
Her lips trembled.
“This is my home.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
She looked toward the old carpenter's drawings.
“My husband built this place.”
“I know.”
Her eyes filled.
“If we leave, I might never live here again.”
The rancher felt his chest tighten.
He wanted to promise that everything could be repaired.
But he couldn't know that.
He looked at her carefully.
“Then we'll come back when it's safe and find out what can be saved.”
She began crying.
He took her hands.
“But I need you safe more than I need this building standing.”
She closed her eyes.
For a moment, she seemed unable to answer.
Then she nodded.
“All right.”
They moved carefully.
The rancher brought the wagon close to the broadest entrance.
He secured it and checked the ramp.
The woman rested before beginning the transfer, conserving her strength.
Then she rose using the rails she'd spent years learning to trust.
The rancher stood beside her.
He offered his arm.
She accepted it.
Every movement required care.
Her enormous weight made balance and fatigue serious considerations, but she knew her body and understood how to move safely within the arrangements they had prepared.
They proceeded slowly.
One step.
Then another.
The rancher did not pull her.
He did not attempt to lift her.