He almost answered sharply. Then he noticed her expression, determined rather than argumentative, and smiled despite himself.
"Fair enough."
Martha returned the smile. She went toward the stove, and Caleb watched her move through the cabin with the confidence of someone who had begun to know the place. He realized he no longer thought of the room as entirely his.
Her presence had changed it.
He was beginning to suspect she'd changed him too.
That night, the storm became violent.
Snow struck the windows in waves, the chimney rattled, and the wind pushed against the cabin walls with enough force to make the lamps tremble. Caleb checked the door several times, concerned about the animals, but he knew venturing outside during the worst of the storm could be dangerous.
Martha sat beside the table sewing a torn shirt. The lantern cast warm light across her face, and the movement of her needle remained steady despite the noise outside. Caleb watched her for several minutes before finally asking something he'd wondered since the stagecoach.
"Why did you answer my advertisement?"
Martha's needle stopped.
She looked toward him. "You wanted a wife."
"Half the territory wants a wife."
She lowered her eyes. "Your advertisement said you had a permanent home."
Caleb frowned. "That's all?"
She hesitated.
Then she said, "It said you were willing to marry a woman who wasn't young and beautiful, provided she was honest and hardworking."
Caleb remembered writing those words. At the time, he'd imagined a plain, practical woman with rough hands and a modest disposition. He hadn't considered that someone might read them as a promise that her appearance wouldn't be used against her.
The realization made him ashamed.
"I didn't live up to that," he said.
Martha looked up.
He stared toward the stove. "What I said when you came off that stagecoach was cruel."
She remained silent.
Caleb continued, "You crossed a great distance on the strength of my word, and I treated you as though you'd deceived me."
Martha's fingers tightened around the shirt.
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then she whispered, "You weren't the first."
Caleb looked toward her.
She lowered her head.
"People have always found something to say about my size. When I was a girl, they told me I'd never find a husband. When I grew older, they told me I should be grateful for any work someone offered."
Her voice trembled, but she kept speaking.
"I thought a man who wanted a hardworking wife might see something else."
Caleb felt something tighten in his chest.
"Martha—"
She shook her head gently. "You don't have to explain. I know what you saw."
He looked at her.
She lifted her eyes.
"I saw it on your face."
The words were quiet, without accusation, and that made them hurt even more.
Caleb sat for a long time, staring at his hands.