But intentional.
Mabel swallowed.
“I will.”
Someone behind them whispered.
The reverend ignored it.
He continued through scripture.
Duty.
Companionship.
Faithfulness.
The language sounded strange in a marriage arranged by debt.
When he opened the section for final blessing, Mabel heard another voice behind her.
A woman she recognized as Pearl Mason.
Pearl had once told Mabel she should be grateful mirrors were not expensive.
“Imagine their wedding night.”
More laughter.
Quieter this time.
Gideon’s hand tightened.
Mabel whispered:
“Don’t.”
He looked at her.
“They’re not worth it.”
His jaw worked.
“They were laughing at you.”
“They always do.”
“That doesn’t make it acceptable.”
Something about his anger nearly broke her.
Mabel looked down.
“I’m used to it.”
Gideon leaned slightly closer.
“That sentence makes me angrier, not calmer.”
Her eyes lifted.
For one suspended moment she forgot the church.
Forgot Jonah.
Forgot debt.
Forgot why this marriage existed.
She saw only Gideon.
Then Reverend Whitaker said:
“You may exchange the rings.”
Gideon reached inside his coat.
The ring was simple silver.
No gemstone.
No engraving.
But polished carefully.
He slipped it onto her finger.
Mabel looked down.
It fit perfectly.
“You knew my size?”
“Your seamstress threatened me.”
A startled laugh escaped her.
Gideon almost smiled.
Mabel reached for his ring.
As she did, she felt the tiny glass bottle hidden beneath the stems of her bouquet.
Its presence turned her stomach.
She had carried it into church because she no longer trusted leaving it anywhere in Jonah’s house.
Proof.
Perhaps the only proof she had.
The bottle contained white powder scraped from medicine packets and residue collected from the soups Jonah insisted she eat before bed.
Mabel had spent months hiding samples.
Comparing them with illustrations in her grandfather’s medical journals.
Testing small traces against copper and vinegar using methods she barely understood.
She had not been certain until two weeks earlier.
Arsenic.
Not enough to kill quickly.
Enough to weaken.
To make her dizzy.
To make her gain weight from swelling.
To make her sleep.
To make everyone believe her body itself was becoming diseased.
Jonah had spent years telling the town that Mabel ate too much.
That she lacked discipline.
That her mother’s side of the family had always been large and unhealthy.
Then the doctor began giving her powders for “reducing.”
They made her worse.
Mabel gradually understood why.
Her twenty-seventh birthday was three months away.
On that day, according to her mother’s will, Mabel would become legal co-owner of the Prosperity Silver Claim north of Ridge Creek.
Jonah had managed it since her mother died.
Once Mabel inherited, his control ended.
Unless Mabel died first.
Then everything passed to Jonah.
The wedding had been his other solution.
Send her away.
Keep her isolated.
Prevent her from appearing before the county clerk when the inheritance vested.
Perhaps wait until mountain weather provided an accident convincing enough for everyone.
Mabel slipped Gideon’s ring onto his finger.
He looked at it.
Then at her.
The preacher began the final prayer.
Mabel made a decision.
She shifted her bouquet.
Her fingers found the tiny bottle.
Then Gideon felt something cold touch his palm.
He looked down.
Mabel had pressed the glass vial into his hand between their joined fingers.
His eyes narrowed.
She whispered without moving her lips:
“Don’t drink anything Jonah gives us.”
Gideon stared.
Mabel forced herself to keep smiling for the congregation.
His fingers closed around the vial.
“Why?”
“Later.”
“Mabel.”
“Please.”
Her eyes held his.
Something in her expression convinced him.
Gideon slid the bottle into his coat.
Reverend Whitaker finished.
“By the authority vested in me…”
Mabel heard almost none of it.
Her gaze remained locked with Gideon’s.
“…I pronounce you husband and wife.”