“You should have doctor.”
“Had trapper.”
“That is not doctor.”
“He had needle.”
“Worse.”
Caleb watched her hands.
“You worried?”
She glared.
He smiled.
“Marta.”
“What?”
“I love you.”
Her hands stopped.
Silence.
He looked suddenly uncertain.
Marta stared.
“That's how you say it?”
“What’s wrong?”
“You nearly die, disappear all winter, limp into town, then announce love while I’m examining bad leg?”
“When else?”
She laughed.
Then cried.
Caleb looked alarmed.
“Wrong?”
“No.”
Marta sat beside.
“I love you too.”
He exhaled.
She touched his cheek.
“Still no proposal.”
“Thought not yet.”
“That was fall.”
“Is it now?”
Marta smiled.
“Maybe.”
Caleb stood too quickly.
Winced.
“Sit.”
He obeyed.
Then reached into coat.
Pulled small wooden box.
Inside simple silver ring.
Marta stared.
“You carried that down mountain?”
“Yes.”
“With broken leg?”
“Ring wasn’t heavy.”
She laughed again.
Caleb took her hand.
“I don't want stable.”
“Don’t want your money.”
“Don’t want you because you can handle mule or winter.”
“I want you because when I’m alone, I hear your voice anyway.”
“Because mountain feels empty now.”
“Because you argue better than anyone I know.”
“Because you make coffee too strong.”
“That is not romantic.”
“I’m trying.”
“Continue.”
He smiled.
“Marry me.”
Marta looked at him.
“Question.”
“Will you marry me?”
She let him wait three seconds.
Longest three seconds of his life.
“Yes.”
They married in June.
Marta wore cream dress.
Fitted waist.
Simple sleeves.
No attempt to look smaller.
Mrs. Palmer told her corset would improve line.
Marta replied:
“My husband already knows shape.”
Caleb overheard and nearly choked.
Wedding small.
Stable decorated with white cloth and mountain flowers.
Travis stood with Caleb.
Eli carried rings because nobody trusted Caleb pockets after winter injury.
Henrik did not come.
He sent letter.
Hope you’re happy. Sorry.
Only that.
Marta read it night before.
Cried.
Then stored it away.
Forgiveness might come later.
Or not.
Marriage did not mean Marta sold stable.
It remained hers.
Caleb insisted.
They split year between Red Creek and Black Pine cabin.
Spring to autumn mostly stable.
Winter mountain, weather permitting.
At first town assumed Caleb now owned business.
He corrected every customer.
“Marta's.”
When invoices came addressed Mr. North, he crossed it out and wrote MARTA LINDHOLM NORTH, PROPRIETOR.
She teased him.
“You enjoy this.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Men look disappointed.”
“That is petty.”
“Yes.”
Their intimate life developed with same pattern as courtship.
Ask.
Answer.
Laugh.
Marta had feared a man as large as Caleb might become careless.
He never did.
If anything, he was too careful.
One night she finally said:
“You can stop treating me like glass.”
Caleb looked confused.
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“How?”