her first night in their home a meeting about debt. She told him she had intended to reveal the assignment after the guests left, whatever happened, because a marriage begun with one secret could survive only if the secret was brought into the light.
At last he looked toward the broad bed he'd reinforced for her comfort. He had built the supports himself, shaped the headboard in cedar, and arranged the room so she could move easily without catching her gown on narrow furniture. She'd noticed his care the moment she entered, though neither had spoken about it. Now he glanced at the bed and smiled almost shyly.
"I hope you believe I didn't build all this because I thought you were a problem," he said.
"I know you didn't. You built it because you expected me to live here, not merely visit."
He nodded. "A house should fit its people."
She told him her mother used to say almost the same thing about dresses. For a while they spoke of the mother she missed and the father whose ranch he feared losing. Then he helped her remove the heavy tiara and bridal veil, placing each piece carefully into its case. She laughed when he stared helplessly at the complicated fastenings on her gown, and they worked through them together as naturally as the conversation allowed, with affection and without hurry.
They did not need a grand speech to mark the beginning of their marriage. They had already made the promise that mattered most. Before the candles went out, he held her close and said, "Tomorrow we'll face the bank together."
She kissed his cheek. "Together. And next time we're afraid, we tell each other before we let the fear make our decisions."
He promised. Outside, the snow continued falling over a ranch neither of them intended to surrender.
The next morning, they discovered that buying the mortgage had stopped only the first part of the threat. A carriage arrived before breakfast, its wheels cutting deep tracks through fresh snow. The visitor was the bank's managing director, a narrow-faced man in an expensive overcoat who had once smiled at the rancher as though they were friends. Beside him sat a stocky attorney carrying a document case and an expression of professional impatience.
The director stepped into the sitting room and took in the bride's wedding flowers with open distaste. She had changed into an elegant blue wool dress, still magnificent but practical enough for a day of work, and wore her long curls loosely pinned. He looked at her briefly, then addressed her husband as though she were another piece of furniture.