The wife testified for nearly four hours.

Her uncle's attorney attempted humiliation.

He began with her finances.

Then marriage.

Then health.

Finally, her weight.

“Madam, would you agree that your physical condition makes independent travel difficult?”

The courtroom changed.

The rancher sat behind her.

His hands tightened.

His wife remained calm.

“Yes.”

“Then your claim that you traveled west primarily to protect yourself—”

“Is entirely reasonable.”

The attorney frowned.

She continued.

“Difficulty is not impossibility.”

A few people smiled.

The lawyer changed direction.

“Did you depend upon your uncle financially?”

“He controlled money that belonged to me.”

“Did he provide housing?”

“With my money.”

“Food?”

“With my money.”

“Medical care?”

“With my money.”

The attorney hesitated.

She leaned slightly forward.

“A jailer can buy a prisoner dinner. That does not make the cell a gift.”

The courtroom became silent.

The rancher looked at her.

Pride hit him so hard he nearly laughed.

Her uncle did not.

The jury convicted him on fraud, conspiracy, attempted murder, and several lesser charges.

Sentencing came weeks later.

The wife did not attend.

“Why?” the rancher asked.

“I spent too much of my life watching him.”

She folded a letter.

“I would rather watch spring.”

So they returned to Montana.

Chapter Nineteen — No Longer Practical

The ranch changed during summer.

The rancher widened the stable path.

His wife protested.

“This costs money.”

“We have money.”

“That does not require wasting it.”

“It's not waste.”

“You widened it four feet.”

“You complained about the turn.”

“Once.”

“Enough.”

She rolled her eyes.

The traveling chair was replaced by one built locally with broader iron wheels and better suspension.

A ramp replaced the porch steps.

The kitchen table moved lower.

Shelves were reorganized.

Not because she was helpless.

Because a home should fit the people living in it.

She transformed the ranch in return.

Accounts became accurate.

Contracts improved.

They bought winter grain earlier and cheaper.

She began corresponding with suppliers directly.

Within a year the ranch earned more than it ever had.

The neighboring cattleman visited.

He stood on the porch where the rancher had once punched him.

“I suppose I owe your wife an apology.”

The rancher looked inside.

“She decides that.”

The cattleman entered.

He removed his hat.

“I behaved badly.”

The wife looked at him.

“Yes.”

“I was rude.”

“Yes.”

“I’m apologizing.”

“I noticed.”

The cattleman waited.

Finally she said, “Accepted.”

Relief.

Then she added, “Mostly.”

He nodded.

“Fair.”

The rancher smiled.

Later, his wife caught him looking smug.

“What?”

“You trained him.”

“I did nothing.”

“Your face did.”

She laughed.

Their marriage kept changing.

The canvas divider disappeared before autumn.

Neither remembered who removed it.

The rancher claimed she had.

She claimed he had.