"You'll survive."
Then her expression softened.
"Your mother would be proud of you."
Gideon went still.
For a moment, he looked toward the mountains beyond the settlement.
His mother had died years earlier.
His father too.
Elias was buried beside them.
He wished all three could have been there.
Ruth seemed to understand.
She placed a hand on his arm.
"They're part of the man standing here."
Gideon's eyes filled.
He nodded.
"Thank you."
The schoolhouse door opened.
The small gathering became quiet.
And Lydia appeared.
For a moment, Gideon forgot how to breathe.
She stood in the doorway wearing the ivory dress she had made herself.
Her dark-chestnut hair fell in thick, shining waves over her shoulders.
A few small flowers were tucked near her temple.
Her cheeks were rosy.
Her brown eyes shone with emotion.
She looked nervous.
Hopeful.
Radiant.
Gideon stared.
Lydia saw his expression.
She smiled.
He smiled back.
And the enormous mountain man who had once trembled at the thought of holding his bride's hand began crying before the ceremony had even started.
They spoke their vows before friends who knew what the words had cost them.
Ruth stood beside Lydia.
A neighboring rancher stood beside Gideon.
Miss Mercer attended as both their attorney and their friend.
Elsie held the flowers.
Several families from the valley sat on the benches.
There were no expensive decorations.
No elaborate feast.
But every person present understood that the ceremony mattered.
The officiant asked Gideon whether he freely chose Lydia as his wife.
Gideon looked directly into her eyes.
"I do."
His voice was deep.
Steady.
Certain.
Then Lydia was asked the same question.
She looked toward Gideon.
For a brief moment, she remembered the first time they stood together before an officiant.
She had been hungry.
Penniless.
Afraid.
Unsure whether the man waiting beside her would become another source of pain.
Now she stood before him with money of her own, work she valued, friends who loved her, and the knowledge that she could choose a different life if she wished.
She smiled through tears.
"I do."
The officiant pronounced them married.
Gideon bowed toward her.
Then stopped.
Lydia laughed softly.
"You may kiss me."
He smiled.
"Thank heaven."
The room erupted in laughter.
Then he kissed her.
Warmly.
Tenderly.
Without hesitation.
For a moment, the schoolhouse disappeared around them.
There was only the woman who had crossed half a country looking for safety.
And the mountain man who had offered her the only bed in his cabin because he could not bear the thought of frightening her.
When they parted, Gideon rested his forehead against hers.
"I love you."
Lydia smiled.
"I love you too."
Outside, the spring wind moved through the cottonwood trees.
And a new chapter of their lives began.
That summer, Gideon built a larger bed.