“Yes.”
“Then take me.”
He nodded.
No argument.
That simple obedience to her choice still surprised her.
The basin appeared beyond a ridge just after noon.
Elena forgot the cold.
A broad white valley opened below them, surrounded by dark pine slopes. A creek disappeared beneath ice, then emerged near a steaming spring. An old cabin leaned beneath snow near the tree line.
Caleb pointed.
“Your mother was born there.”
Elena’s throat closed.
She stepped from the sleigh.
The snow reached halfway up her boots.
Walking was difficult, but she refused Caleb’s arm until the ground sloped.
Then she reached for him herself.
He gave it without comment.
At the spring, warm mist touched Elena’s face.
She tried imagining Margaret as a girl there.
Free.
Before Edwin.
Before debt.
Before hidden papers.
“How much is it worth?”
Elena asked.
Caleb hesitated.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe twenty thousand.”
Elena turned.
“Dollars?”
“Yes.”
“If copper is real and railroad comes closer…”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Guess.”
“Thirty-five.”
“Forty.”
Elena laughed.
Not happily.
Her father had sold her for twenty dollars while attempting to steal forty thousand.
She stared across the basin.
“I’m keeping it.”
Caleb nodded.
“You don’t have an opinion?”
“I have many.”
“Tell me one.”
“Don’t sell water rights.”
“Why?”
“Spring is worth more long-term than timber.”
Elena looked at him.
“That was quick.”
“You asked.”
She smiled.
“Anything else?”
“Selective timber.”
“Keep creek banks.”
“Lease grazing short-term.”
“Do not let railroad surveyors tell you where boundary is without your own survey.”
Elena’s eyebrows rose.
“You have been thinking.”
“Yes.”
“About my land.”
“Yes.”
“Dangerous.”
He looked toward her.
“I can stop.”
Elena felt the difference.
He would.
That made her want him not to.
“No.”
“Keep thinking.”
They remained until sunset.
On return, Elena asked:
“Why did you really agree to marry me?”
Caleb went still.
“I told you.”
“You told me why you acted that morning.”
“Not why you agreed so quickly.”
The sleigh bells sounded softly.
Caleb looked ahead.
“I saw you once.”
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
“Where?”
“Mercantile.”
“What was I doing?”
“Arguing.”
Elena laughed.
“With who?”
“Mr. Tolland.”
The memory returned.
The merchant had shorted flour weight for a widow.
Elena had spent half an hour forcing him to remeasure.
“You remember that?”
“Yes.”
“Everyone thought I was embarrassing.”
“I thought you were brave.”
Elena looked away.
No one had ever called that moment brave.
Only loud.
Difficult.
Unladylike.
Caleb continued.