Memory belonged.
The ranch became winter shelter.
During storms, travelers knew Cole cabin had extra room.
Adelaide insisted.
“If I had been stranded in town, my life would be different.”
They added room.
Then another.
Wide chairs.
Strong beds.
Gideon teased:
“You are redesigning Montana.”
“It needs improvement.”
“You say that about everything.”
“Most things do.”
Years passed.
Amos Pike eventually became friend of sorts.
Never intimate.
But respectful.
When he married late in life, Adelaide told his bride exactly what he had once said.
Amos protested.
“Twenty years.”
“Consequences.”
His wife laughed for days.
Fair.
Gideon aged first visibly.
Gray beard.
Slower climbing.
Adelaide’s knees worsened.
She used cane.
Then a sturdy wheeled chair for long distances.
No shame.
Gideon built ramps.
This time he asked.
“Would you like?”
“Yes.”
He smiled.
“Learning.”
At sixty, they returned to Dry Creek station for anniversary.
The platform changed.
New roof.
More tracks.
Adelaide stood with cane.
Gideon beside.
“You hated me here.”
She said.
“I didn't hate.”
“You looked close.”
“I was afraid.”
“You were also rude.”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“If train came now and twenty-nine-year-old me stepped down, what would you say?”
Gideon thought.
“Adelaide Miller?”
She laughed.
“Then?”
“Welcome.”
She looked at him.
“That’s all?”
“Then I’d carry trunk.”
“You would ask.”
He smiled.
“I’d ask.”
Better.
At sixty-eight, Gideon became ill with pneumonia.
Adelaide sat beside bed as decades earlier.
Wet cloth.
Fever.
But this time doctors available.
Children nearby.
Gideon woke.
Saw her.
“You still here?”
“Unfortunately.”
He smiled weakly.
“You dragged me back once.”
“Don't make me do again.”
“No snow.”
“I’ll find something.”
He recovered.
For six more years.
Then heart weakened.
At seventy-four, he knew.
One evening he asked Adelaide to open window.
Cold air.
She complained.
“Trying to kill me first?”
“Maybe.”
They laughed.
He looked toward Abigail’s old grave visible through trees.
Then at Adelaide.
“I wasted years believing love caused loss.”
Adelaide took his hand.
“Fear causes plenty too.”
“Yes.”
“Do you regret?”
“What?”
“Marrying me?”
His eyes widened.
“Are you fishing?”
“Answer.”