The workshop erupted in affectionate laughter, and his wife blushed with pleasure. The manager gave them a tour, introducing skilled seamstresses, pattern cutters, fitters, and packers. Several women approached the bride with practical questions before remembering to congratulate her on her marriage. She answered each question readily, examining a troublesome seam and discussing a delayed silk shipment as though she'd never left.
The rancher noticed how people looked at her here. Not with pity. With trust. The young apprentices watched closely when she spoke. The experienced workers challenged her suggestions without fear. Her authority came from knowledge and fair dealing, not from the ability to intimidate. For a man accustomed to solving problems with his hands, the sight of his wife guiding a room through a difficult order was quietly humbling.
At noon, she showed him the gown being prepared for a wealthy family across the bay. It was magnificent, with embroidered leaves and a fitted bodice designed to move gracefully as the wearer walked. The rancher studied the seams, then ran one finger along the hidden reinforcement beneath the skirt edge.
"You put the strongest stitches where nobody sees them," he said.
She smiled. "Yes."
"Like a good roof."
"Exactly like a good roof."
He looked at her with open pride. "I wish your mother could see this."
The words brought tears to her eyes. She looked away, then returned her gaze. "So do I."
They spent the afternoon reviewing the company's affairs. The manager presented clean accounts, confirmed reserves for payroll, and identified the customers who had received anonymous warnings. One letter alleged that the bride had diverted company funds to rescue her husband's failing property. The accusation had enough truth to sound dangerous but omitted the most important detail: she had used capital she legally controlled, accounted for the purchase, and left the workshop's obligations fully funded.
The rancher looked sick as she read it. "I brought this trouble to your door."
She set the letter down. "The person spreading a dishonest accusation brought it to my door. You are not responsible for his choices."
"But if you'd never married me—"
"Then someone would have found another reason to question whether a woman like me had the right to own this company. I refuse to let our marriage become an apology."
He squeezed her hand. She turned to the manager and asked for a written response available to commercial clients, confirming the company's capacity, governance, and record of fulfilled orders. She also asked their counsel to preserve the anonymous letters and compare their language with the lender's earlier correspondence. A person who repeated the same turns of phrase might reveal more than intended.