“Clara.”
The girl’s face lit with delight.
“You are!”
Margaret’s cheeks turned crimson.
Clara hurried forward and wrapped both arms around them.
“Does this mean she’s staying?”
Eli looked at Margaret.
Margaret smiled through her blush.
“If your father still wants me.”
Clara looked at him as though he had asked the most ridiculous question in the world.
“Of course he does!”
Eli laughed, gathered his daughter close, and kissed the top of her head.
“Yes, sweetheart,” he said. “I want her to stay.”
Clara beamed.
“Then it’s the best spring ever.”
Margaret leaned against Eli, and for the first time, the word home did not feel like a place she had to earn.
They were married in June.
The ceremony took place beneath the cottonwood trees near the creek, where the grass had grown high and the wildflowers brightened the banks. Thomas stood beside Eli, looking unusually solemn. Clara wore a pale blue dress Margaret had sewn from cloth purchased in town. She carried a small bouquet of daisies and insisted on walking ahead of the couple, scattering petals with great seriousness.
Margaret wore a simple cream dress with long sleeves and a narrow ribbon at the waist. Her dark hair was pinned beneath a modest hat, and a small blue flower was tucked into the ribbon. She had refused a more elaborate gown, saying she wanted something she could wear again.
Eli wore his best dark suit, though the collar sat stiffly against his neck and he looked as though he would rather be mending a fence.
When the minister asked whether he took Margaret as his wife, Eli’s answer was clear.
“I do.”
When Margaret was asked the same, she looked at him for a long moment before replying.
“I do.”
Clara clapped before the minister had finished speaking.
Thomas laughed. The minister smiled. Eli bent his head and kissed his bride beneath the cottonwood branches, while the wind carried the scent of summer grass across the valley.
Afterward, they ate beneath a canvas awning. Margaret had prepared pies and bread, and Thomas brought a barrel of cider from Cheyenne. Clara sat between the newlyweds, talking so quickly that no one could follow the story she was telling.
As the afternoon wore on, Margaret slipped away to the creek.
She stood beside the water, holding the sealed envelope that had changed everything. She had carried it with her through the storm, and now she had brought it to the place where she and Eli had promised to begin their life together.
Eli found her there.
“Are you hiding from the celebration?”
“Only for a moment.”
He stood beside her.
“What are you thinking?”
“About Anne.”
He nodded.
“Me too.”
Margaret looked down at the letter.
“I used to think that keeping a promise meant doing exactly what someone asked, no matter what it cost. Anne taught me something different.”