But Loretta didn't need their applause to know her worth.
That was the difference.
She'd learned something more important than how to make cruel people approve of her.
She'd learned that their cruelty had never been a fair measure of who she was.
The wedding supper was magnificent.
There were roasted potatoes, fresh bread, vegetables, thick steaks, stews, and several enormous platters of meat prepared by the cooks Loretta had trained. Walter supplied extra fuel, the ranchers brought produce, and several miners contributed what they could.
Loretta sat beside Elias at the front table.
For once, she wasn't turning steaks.
She wasn't shouting orders over the stove.
She wasn't trying to prepare fifty meals alone.
She was eating with the people she loved.
Halfway through supper, Thomas stood.
He held a mug of coffee.
For a moment, the room quieted.
He looked toward Loretta.
"About a year ago, we had a terrible evening in this room."
Several miners lowered their eyes.
Thomas continued.
"Some of us were hungry. Some were angry. And some forgot that the woman cooking our food was a person who deserved the same respect we wanted for ourselves."
Loretta felt her eyes fill.
Thomas looked toward Elias.
"Then a stranger came in carrying an elk quarter."
Several men laughed softly.
Thomas smiled.
"He didn't make a great speech. He didn't tell us how powerful he was."
He looked back at Loretta.
"He simply asked where he could help."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Thomas continued.
"I think we've learned something since that night."
He raised his mug.
"To the woman who kept Red Dog fed when nobody gave her enough help. And to the man wise enough to recognize what the rest of us should've seen all along."
The miners raised their mugs.
"To Loretta and Elias!"
Loretta began crying.
Elias squeezed her hand gently.
He leaned close.
"You all right?"
She laughed through tears.
"Yes."
He smiled.
"Good."
She looked around the room.
For a moment, she remembered the woman she'd been a year earlier.
Exhausted.
Lonely.
Afraid.
Standing behind a griddle while men laughed about her body.
Then she looked toward the new kitchen staff.
The repaired benches.
The tables filled with families.
And the man beside her.
She smiled.
"I'm more than all right."
Years later, travelers passing through Red Dog would still talk about the Copper Pot.
They spoke about the enormous woman who could prepare the finest steaks in the territory.