Nathaniel nodded solemnly.
“Almost five.”
A few people smiled.
Nathaniel did not.
“They do not need somebody who arrives expecting gratitude.”
“They do not need someone who plans to replace their mother.”
“They do not need somebody who thinks their Apache family is something that must be erased from them.”
That sentence changed the mood again.
Some people shifted.
Red Hollow traded with nearby Apache families.
Some residents did so fairly.
Others acted as though proximity made prejudice respectable.
Nathaniel had apparently encountered enough of the second kind.
He continued.
“The woman I marry will respect who their mother was.”
“She will allow her relatives to visit.”
“She will not rename these children.”
“She will not cut their hair because it looks too Apache.”
“She will not tell them speaking the language their mother taught them is shameful.”
The oldest boy looked at his father.
Clara felt something tighten inside her chest.
Nathaniel’s gaze passed over the women.
“If any of that troubles you, don't waste your time.”
Nobody spoke.
The blonde woman looked toward the ground.
Another woman quietly left.
Martha laughed nervously.
“Surely nobody here would—”
Nathaniel looked at her.
Martha stopped.
He continued.
“I don't need beauty.”
That caused several people to glance at one another.
Nathaniel ignored it.
“I need competence.”
“Patience.”
“Somebody who understands winter.”
“Somebody who doesn't panic when a child gets sick.”
“Somebody who can make food stretch.”
“Sew.”
“Keep accounts.”
“Manage a stove.”
“And tell me when I'm being a fool.”
The Reverend almost smiled.
“You may find that qualification easier than expected.”
Nathaniel gave him a dry look.
Then Samuel coughed again.
Clara stepped away from the wash tub.
She did it without thinking.
Three heads turned toward her.
Then ten.