As her weight increased over the years, employers became less willing to hire her.

Customers stared.

Landlords complained about stairs and furniture.

One physician treated her as a curiosity rather than a patient.

The matrimonial advertisement had not been romantic desperation.

It had been economic survival.

“What happened to your savings?” the rancher asked.

She looked toward the fire.

“My uncle.”

The answer was too short.

The rancher waited.

She noticed.

“You're learning not to ask?”

“I’m learning when.”

She gave a small smile.

“Good.”

She asked about him too.

Parents dead.

No siblings nearby.

A failed engagement six years earlier.

She was surprised.

“What happened?”

“She wanted St. Louis.”

“You wanted Montana.”

“Yes.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s enough.”

“Did you love her?”

The rancher paused.

“I thought I did.”

“Useful answer.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you avoided saying yes.”

He looked at her.

She looked back.

Something warm passed between them.

Both immediately looked away.

That night, each remained awake on opposite sides of the canvas divider.

Neither understood why.

Chapter Four — What Men See

The first visitor arrived nine days after the wedding.

A neighboring cattleman rode up near noon.

The rancher was repairing fence.

His wife was inside.

The cattleman dismounted.

“I heard the Chicago shipment arrived.”

The rancher stopped hammering.

“What?”

The visitor grinned.

“Your bride.”

The rancher did not smile.

The cattleman glanced toward the cabin.

“That her?”

His wife had appeared in the doorway.

The cattleman stared openly.

The rancher saw the expression.

Surprise.

Disbelief.

Then amusement.

“Good Lord.”

The rancher set the hammer down.

“Something you need?”

The cattleman laughed.

“Agency forget to mention a detail?”

The wife’s expression became blank.

She had seen this before.

The rancher had too, by then.

That look from strangers.

The moment a person stopped being a person and became a spectacle.

The rancher stepped between them.

“I asked whether you need something.”

The cattleman finally looked at him.

“Easy.”

“I am easy.”

“Just came to talk cattle.”

“Then talk.”

The man’s grin weakened.

“There’s a winter buyers’ meeting next month.”

“I know.”

“You bringing your wife?”

The rancher stared.

The cattleman chuckled.

“Sorry. Couldn't resist.”

The rancher punched him.

One clean blow.

The cattleman fell backward into the snow.

From the doorway, the wife shouted, “Henry!”

The rancher shook his hand.

The cattleman sat up with blood beneath his nose.

“You son of a—”

“Get off my land.”

The cattleman stood.

“You've lost your mind.”

“Possible.”

“You're going to regret that.”

“Also possible.”

The cattleman mounted.

Before leaving, he looked toward the cabin.

The rancher moved into his line of sight.

The visitor spat into the snow and rode away.

The rancher picked up his hammer.

His wife remained in the doorway.