The building stood beneath two tall cottonwood trees.
Its windows were washed.
The wooden floor had been swept.
And Ruth had arranged wildflowers in glass jars along the front benches.
Lydia made her own wedding dress.
It was ivory, with a softly gathered bodice, full sleeves, and delicate lace stitched around the neckline.
The skirt fell in graceful folds over her generous figure.
She did not attempt to make herself look smaller.
She did not tighten the waist until she could hardly breathe.
She made a dress that fit the woman she was.
When Ruth saw it, she pressed a hand against her mouth.
"Lydia."
Lydia turned nervously.
"Is something wrong?"
Ruth shook her head.
"Oh, dear girl."
Her eyes filled.
"You look beautiful."
Lydia glanced toward the mirror.
For a moment, she saw herself as though through someone else's eyes.
Not as a woman whose body needed apology.
Not as a woman who ought to hide.
But as a bride.
A beautiful bride who had made her own dress, earned her own money, and chosen the man waiting for her.
Elsie stood nearby wearing the blue wool dress Lydia had sewn months earlier.
She stared at the bride with wide eyes.
"Mrs. Bowman?"
Lydia turned.
"Yes?"
"Can I say something?"
"Of course."
Elsie hesitated.
Then smiled.
"When I get married someday, I want a dress like that."
Lydia laughed softly.
Ruth wiped her eyes.
Lydia crouched slightly to take the girl's hands.
"Then make certain it fits you comfortably."
Elsie nodded.
"And marry someone kind," Lydia added.
The girl thought about that.
Then smiled.
"Like Mr. Hayes?"
Lydia looked toward the window.
Outside, Gideon stood beside the schoolhouse wearing a clean dark-brown coat, polished boots, and the finest shirt Ruth had persuaded him to purchase.
He looked terribly nervous.
Lydia smiled.
"Yes."
Her voice softened.
"Like Mr. Hayes."
Gideon had never looked so uncomfortable in his life.
He had faced blizzards.
Crossed swollen rivers.
Spent nights in mountain storms with little more than a blanket and a fire.
Yet standing outside the schoolhouse, waiting to marry Lydia, seemed to require more courage than any of those things.
He adjusted his collar.
Then adjusted it again.
A neighboring rancher laughed.
"Hayes, if you keep pulling on that collar, you'll tear it off."
Gideon looked at him.
"Feels too tight."
"It's not."
Gideon sighed.
The rancher grinned.
"You're nervous."
"No."
The man raised an eyebrow.
Gideon stared at the schoolhouse door.
Then admitted, "A little."
Ruth emerged carrying a small bouquet.
She examined him.
"Stand up straight."
Gideon obeyed.
"Your hair."
He sighed.
Ruth reached up and smoothed it.
"There."
He looked uncomfortable.
"Ruth."
She smiled.