"A little."
"From where?"
"I worked in a household that owned a lumberyard."
He frowned.
"A housekeeper doesn't ordinarily manage timber."
Martha looked down.
"No, sir."
She didn't explain further.
Caleb considered asking.
Then he decided he didn't care.
Only later would he realize how much that brief exchange revealed about her.
They reached the cabin after sunset.
It stood in a clearing surrounded by towering pines, with a small barn on one side and a woodpile sheltered beneath a lean-to. Behind the property, a narrow trail disappeared into darker forest, eventually climbing toward a rocky ridge where Caleb maintained several traplines.
The cabin itself was sturdy but plain.
Its walls were built from thick logs, the roof was covered with hand-cut shingles, and a stone chimney rose above one side. A small porch faced the clearing, and two narrow windows looked toward the trees.
Martha stepped down from the wagon.
For a moment, she simply stared.
Then she smiled.
"It's beautiful."
Caleb looked at the cabin.
He saw a roof that needed repair, a fence that leaned slightly near the barn, and a porch step he'd been meaning to replace for months.
"Needs work."
Martha nodded.
"Most homes do."
He looked toward her.
She smiled again.
This time, he didn't look away quite so quickly.
Inside, the cabin smelled of woodsmoke, old leather, and cold iron.
A large stove stood near the wall. There was a narrow bed covered by wool blankets, a rough wooden table, three chairs, and a cupboard containing a modest collection of dishes.
A ladder led to a small loft used for storing supplies.
Caleb lit an oil lamp.
The amber light revealed dust on the shelves and several shirts folded haphazardly near the bed.
Martha looked around without commenting.
Caleb placed her bag beside the table.
Then he turned toward her.
"We need to understand one another."
She nodded.
"I'm listening."
He folded his arms.
"I arranged this marriage because I need help keeping the place running. I'm not interested in courtship or foolishness."
Martha lowered her eyes.
"I understand."
"When the preacher can reach us, we'll make the arrangement official."
She nodded.
"But until then, you'll keep the house, cook, mend clothes, and help with ordinary work. I'll manage the timber, animals, and traplines."
Martha looked toward the stove.
"Of course."
Caleb hesitated.
Then he said the thing he believed would prevent misunderstandings.
"Don't expect affection from me."
She became very still.
He continued.
"I'm offering a roof, food, and an honest arrangement. Nothing more."
For a long moment, she didn't answer.
Then she asked, "And where am I to sleep?"
Caleb pointed toward the bed.
"There. I'll take the chair by the stove."
She looked at him.
"You don't intend to share the bed?"
"No."
A strange expression passed across her face.
Caleb expected hurt.
Perhaps anger.
Instead, he saw relief.