“Truth matters.”
She laughed.
The Cowboy smiled.
Then became serious.
“I do not love you despite your body.”
The Younger Sister looked up.
He continued carefully.
“And I will not insult you by pretending I don’t see it.”
Her breathing changed.
“You are a very large woman.”
“Yes.”
“I know what your arms feel like when we lift a barn beam.”
She laughed softly.
“I know how much space you take beside me on a wagon bench.”
Her cheeks flushed.
“I know your body changes how you ride, work, move, and live.”
He held her gaze.
“And I want all of you.”
Silence.
The Younger Sister stared at him.
For most of her life, compliments had arrived disguised as denial.
You have such a pretty face.
You would be lovely if—
You carry your weight well.
People tried making her desirable by mentally subtracting parts of her.
The Cowboy did not subtract anything.
“Say that again.”
He looked confused.
“Which?”
“The last part.”
“I want all of you.”
She stepped forward.
“Good.”
Then kissed him.
The Cowboy stood stunned for perhaps half a second.
Then kissed her back.
Carefully at first.
The Younger Sister placed both large hands against his vest and pulled him closer.
Carefulness disappeared.
When they separated, both were breathing harder.
The Cowboy smiled.
“Was that permission to become smug?”
“No.”
“Unfortunate.”
She kissed him again.
Their courtship became public shortly afterward.
Red Hollow behaved exactly as expected.
Some people approved.
Some whispered.
Several women who had previously treated the Younger Sister with pity suddenly treated her with suspicion.
The wealthiest unmarried cowboy choosing her required them to rewrite assumptions.
People dislike rewriting.
One merchant’s wife asked whether the Cowboy had “always preferred unusually large women.”
The Younger Sister answered, “You may ask him. I don’t conduct surveys.”
The story spread.
The Cowboy enjoyed it.
He became more careful when people insulted her, not less.
The Younger Sister stopped him from punching three men during the first year.
“Violence is inefficient.”
“One insulted you.”
“Yes.”
“I can fix that.”
“By creating paperwork?”
He frowned.
“You have become obsessed with paperwork.”
“Experience.”
The Fiancée changed too.
She traveled east for six months.
When she returned, she had shorter hair and no interest in resuming Red Hollow society exactly as before.
She opened a horse-breeding operation on her half of the ranch.
Men assumed she needed a male partner.
She allowed them to assume until contracts were signed.
Then corrected them.
The sisters argued.
Often.
Now honestly.
“You use my workers without asking.”
“You borrowed my wagon last week.”
“That is different.”
“How?”
“It was your old wagon.”
“It was still mine.”
The old pattern of silent service slowly disappeared.
Their relationship became harder.
And better.
Their father spent four months in county jail awaiting the arson case.
The Younger Sister visited once.
He looked older.
Smaller.