She had no money for another journey, no nearby relatives, and no way to travel safely through the mountains until the weather improved.
Caleb saw the worry in her face.
He understood how little freedom she must feel.
"I'll bring you to Bitter Creek when the road is safe if that's what you want," he said. "I'll arrange lodging and pay your passage wherever you choose to go."
Martha stared.
"You're sending me away?"
He shook his head.
"No."
She looked confused.
Caleb continued.
"I'm telling you the decision belongs to you."
Her eyes filled.
It was the first time in years that a man had told her she could decide what happened next without making the choice dependent on pleasing him.
She lowered her head.
"I don't know where I'd go."
Caleb felt a quiet ache.
"Then you can stay while you decide."
Martha looked toward him.
"And the marriage?"
He hesitated.
Then he answered honestly.
"That's a decision we shouldn't make because winter has trapped us together."
She stared.
Caleb continued.
"You came here expecting a husband. I treated you poorly. Now there's more to consider than either of us knew. I won't ask you to make vows until you're certain you want them."
For several seconds, Martha couldn't speak.
Then she whispered, "Thank you."
Caleb nodded.
He moved toward the stove to add another log.
But before he sat down, Martha asked something else.
"Why did you leave your brother?"
Caleb became very still.
For a moment, he stared at the fire.
Then he turned toward her.
"Because I discovered he could make a lie look more convincing than the truth."
Martha felt the words settle inside her.
She looked toward the photograph.
Then she asked, "Will you tell me?"
Caleb hesitated.
He hadn't told the story in years.
But the woman standing before him had revealed memories that hurt far more than his own embarrassment or pride.
He owed her an honest answer.
He sat in the chair near the stove, leaving the other chair for her.
Martha approached slowly.
Then she sat.
Caleb looked into the fire.
"My father was a hard man," he began. "Not always cruel. Not always kind. But he believed a son should become whatever kind of man his father needed."
He paused.
"Harlan was born before my father married my mother. His first marriage failed, and Harlan spent much of his childhood with his mother's family. When he was older, he came to live with us."
Martha listened.
Caleb continued.
"I was nine when he arrived. Harlan was sixteen. He knew how to speak to grown men, how to bargain, and how to make himself useful. My father admired him."
A faint, bitter smile touched his mouth.
"At first, so did I."
Caleb described following his older half-brother through timberyards and freight depots, desperate to learn the things Harlan knew. He remembered being taught to harness horses, calculate cargo weights, and negotiate with merchants who seemed enormous to a child.