“And maybe dresses.”
“You don't know what dresses cost.”
“No.”
“They're expensive.”
“I have money.”
“How much?”
Calvin looked uncomfortable.
Grace folded her arms beneath the blanket.
“You demanded honesty.”
“Fair.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“Calvin.”
He sighed.
“I sold two horses.”
“What?”
“They weren't my best.”
“Calvin!”
“One was mean.”
“You sold horses to buy me clothing?”
“To buy cloth.”
“That is worse.”
“Why?”
“Because now I have to sew it.”
“You can sew.”
Grace stared.
He smiled cautiously.
She tried being angry.
Failed.
“You foolish man.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
She approached the wardrobe.
Touched the little carved flowers.
“You did those?”
“Yes.”
“They're uneven.”
“I know.”
“I love them.”
Calvin smiled.
Grace looked toward him.
“So that is your secret.”
“What?”
“The boards.”
“Yes.”
“Three evenings.”
“Four.”
“You told me you were repairing the corral.”
“I was.”
“One hour.”
“And the other three?”
He nodded toward the wardrobe.
Grace shook her head.
“All this because you noticed I had little luggage.”
“I didn't know you had only one dress.”
“But you knew.”
“That you arrived with almost nothing?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you ask?”
Calvin thought.
“Because I figured if you wanted me to know, you'd tell me.”
Grace looked down.
“Were you disappointed?”
“About what?”
“That I brought nothing.”
He stared.
“You brought yourself.”
The answer came so quickly she knew it had not been prepared.
Grace's breath caught.
Calvin stepped closer.
“You crossed half the country.”
“You came into a house belonging to a stranger.”
“You married me.”
“You've cooked every meal since.”
“Cleaned things I thought were already clean.”
“Talked to the chickens.”
“They listen.”
“They don't.”
“They do.”
Calvin smiled.
“You filled this place with noise.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“I like it.”
Grace looked at him.
Calvin continued.
“I did not send for furniture.”
“Or dresses.”
“Or money.”
“Or a woman with an uncomplicated past.”
Grace swallowed.
“What did you send for?”
His voice softened.
“A wife.”
Silence filled the barn.
Grace moved closer.
“Calvin.”
“Yes.”
“I think I’m beginning to become very fond of you.”
“Beginning?”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Don't ruin it.”
“Sorry.”
Grace's hand rested on his chest again.
His heartbeat changed immediately.
She smiled.
“There.”
“What?”
“That nervous heart.”
“Manual labor.”
“You're impossible.”
“So I've heard.”
Grace looked up at him.
“About what I said in the cabin.”
Calvin's gaze sharpened.
“Which part?”
“You know which.”
“I'd like clarification.”
She flushed.
“Coward.”
“Careful.”
Grace tugged gently on one suspender.
His breath changed.
She whispered:
“I said perhaps tonight you needn't work quite so hard at behaving.”
Calvin's eyes darkened.
“I remember.”
“Good.”
He did not touch her.
That restraint affected her more than if he had.
Grace stepped until the blanket around her skirt brushed his trousers.
“What are you waiting for?”
“Permission.”
Her pulse jumped.
“To kiss your wife?”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“You have it.”
Calvin touched her face.
Slowly.
His palm rough from woodworking.
Thumb near her cheek.
Then he kissed her.
Soft at first.
Almost cautious.
Grace's fingers curled into his suspenders.
He kissed her again.
Longer.
She felt weeks of letters, eight days of awkward marriage, countless unfinished sentences somehow collapse into one moment.
When he pulled away, Grace's face remained close to his.
“That was restrained.”
Calvin's mouth twitched.
“I’m trying.”
“I thought we discussed that.”
“It's still afternoon.”
She laughed.
“Mr. Porter.”
“Yes?”
“You have a suspicious number of rules for a frontier husband.”
“I’m inventing them quickly.”
Grace kissed him this time.
Calvin's restraint lasted several seconds longer.
Then his arms settled around her.
One hand at her waist.
The other high on her back.
Grace relaxed against him.
No rush.
No demand.
Nothing taken.
Only warmth.
When they finally separated, Calvin rested his forehead against hers.
“Tonight.”
Grace whispered:
“Yes.”
He smiled.
Then looked toward the blanket.
“We should probably repair your dress first.”
Grace groaned.
“Romance destroyed.”
“Practicality.”
“Terrible man.”
They returned to the cabin.
Calvin found an old blue work shirt.
Grace inspected it.
“No.”
“What?”
“Wrong shade.”
“It's blue.”
“That is not how fabric works.”
He looked offended.
“Blue is blue.”
Grace stared.
“You should never be allowed inside a dress shop.”
“Agreed.”
Eventually they found a piece of faded cloth inside an old trunk belonging to Calvin's mother.
It was not an exact match.
Close enough.
Grace patched the dress.
The repair was visible.
Calvin sat across from her sharpening a pencil with a pocketknife while she sewed.
Every few minutes she caught him looking.
“Stop.”
“What?”
“Watching.”
“I’m sitting.”
“You're staring.”
“Maybe.”
Grace smiled.
“Eight days behaving badly already.”
“Technically I’m still behaving.”
“We'll see.”
That evening they ate supper.
Grace told Calvin more about Boston.
About her mother.
About long shifts in the mill.
About the women who hid bruised hands beneath gloves because missing a shift meant missing rent.
About Samuel Avery.
Calvin listened.
Did not interrupt.
When Grace finished, he said:
“We go to Cheyenne Monday.”
She looked surprised.
“So soon?”
“Yes.”
“Why Monday?”
“Sunday I need to finish the wagon wheel.”
She smiled.
“Of course.”
“Then we find an attorney.”
“And?”
“Someone who can send those documents safely east.”
Grace nodded.
Fear returned.
“What if Hargrove comes here?”
Calvin looked toward the dark window.
“Then he wasted a very long train journey.”
She smiled despite herself.
“You are not going to fight him.”
“No.”
“Calvin.”
“I said no.”
“You sounded disappointed.”
“A little.”
“Promise.”
He sighed.
“Promise.”
“Good.”
Grace reached across the table.
Took his hand.
Calvin turned his palm upward.
Their fingers intertwined.
That small gesture felt strangely more intimate than the barn kiss.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Believing me.”
He frowned.
“Why wouldn't I?”
Grace thought of Boston.
Of men who had laughed when women complained about wages.
Of supervisors who called them hysterical.
Ungrateful.
Dishonest.