Caleb stopped.
"You're up early."
She smiled faintly.
"So are you."
He looked toward the food.
"Didn't ask you to make breakfast."
"I know."
She hesitated.
"I thought you'd be hungry."
Caleb stared at her.
For five years, he'd eaten cold bread or reheated stew before leaving the cabin.
Nobody had prepared breakfast for him.
He sat.
Martha placed a bowl in front of him.
Then she poured coffee.
He tasted the porridge.
It was warm, thick, and seasoned with a little salt and dried apple.
He looked up.
"Where'd you find the apples?"
"In the cupboard."
"Didn't know there were any left."
She smiled.
"There were enough for two."
He looked at the small amount in her bowl.
Then toward his own.
His portion was larger.
He frowned.
"You should eat more."
Martha's expression changed.
"I'm not very hungry."
Caleb studied her.
She was avoiding his eyes.
He thought about how large she'd seemed stepping from the stagecoach.
Then about the tiny serving she'd given herself.
A strange discomfort moved through him.
He pushed part of his porridge into her bowl.
She stared.
"Mr. Montgomery—"
"There's enough."
She looked at him.
For a moment, she seemed almost frightened by the unexpected generosity.
Then she whispered, "Thank you."
Caleb stood.
He gathered his coat and rifle.
"I'll be back before sunset."
Martha nodded.
"Be careful."
He stopped near the door.
The words surprised him.
No one had said them to him in a long time.
Then he opened the door and stepped into the cold.
Over the next three weeks, the cabin changed.
Martha cleaned every corner without throwing away anything useful. She repaired a torn window curtain, reorganized the pantry, and discovered that several sacks of flour had been stored too close to a damp section of the wall.
She moved them before the moisture could spoil the contents.
She mended Caleb's shirts with stitches so fine he could barely identify the damaged places afterward.
She repaired a loose kitchen shelf.
She washed the blankets.
And she discovered that the leather straps on one of his supply packs were beginning to crack.
Rather than discard them, she used scraps of sound leather from an old harness to strengthen the worn sections.
Caleb noticed each improvement.
At first, he said little.
He had spent years taking care of the cabin alone, and part of him resented the feeling that someone else could so easily see what he'd neglected.
But he also enjoyed returning to a warm room.
He enjoyed finding supper waiting.
And he began looking forward to the quiet sound of Martha humming while she worked.
He never told her.
Not then.
Martha didn't ask for praise.
She rose early, worked steadily, and tried to avoid doing anything that might make him regret taking her in.
But there were moments when she forgot to be careful.