"You're staring again."
He nodded.
"Seems to be a habit."
She laughed.
"You're a terrible liar."
He crossed the room.
She turned toward him.
He rested his hands gently against her waist.
She smiled.
"Do you remember our first night?"
"Every moment."
She glanced toward the knife hanging beside the fireplace.
"You frightened me half to death."
He winced.
"I know."
She touched his cheek.
"Then you surprised me."
He smiled.
"How?"
"You asked permission."
His expression softened.
She continued.
"You gave me a choice when nobody else ever had."
He leaned closer.
"And what would you choose tonight?"
She smiled mischievously.
"That depends."
"On what?"
"Whether you intend to keep staring or finally kiss your wife."
The mountain man laughed.
Then leaned down.
Their lips met.
She wrapped her arms around his neck.
He drew her closer.
When they separated, she whispered, "I love you."
He smiled.
"More than bread?"
She pretended to consider.
"That's a difficult question."
He laughed.
She kissed him again.
Then took his hand and led him toward the sleeping alcove.
At the curtain, she stopped.
She looked back.
"Coming?"
The mountain man's eyes shone.
"Anywhere you want, sweetheart."
She smiled.
Then drew the curtain closed behind them.
Outside, the Wyoming mountains rested beneath a sky filled with stars.
The summer wind moved gently through the pine trees.
And inside the cabin, two people who had once believed happiness belonged to somebody else finally understood that love was never meant to be purchased.
It was meant to be chosen.
The young woman had been handed over for twenty dollars.
The mountain man had drawn a knife behind her back.
And the world had expected another story about a helpless woman and a frightening stranger.
But the knife had cut the ropes of a life she never chose.
The twenty dollars had fulfilled a promise made to her mother.
And the mountain man everyone feared had become the first person who taught her what freedom could feel like.
Years later, when travelers stopped at the Northern Meadow Bakehouse, they sometimes heard the extraordinary story of how its beautiful, full-figured owner met her rugged mountain husband.
Some asked whether it was true that her father had accepted only twenty dollars.
She would smile.
"Every penny."
Others asked whether she was frightened when the mountain man drew his knife.
She laughed softly.
"Terrified."
Then they would ask what happened next.
And she would look toward the tall, bearded man carrying flour sacks through the bakery doorway.
He would meet her eyes.
Smile.
And she would answer with the words that mattered most.
"He didn't buy me. He was the first man who ever let me choose."
THE END.