Wind hammered the cabin.
Martha stood at the table kneading bread.
Gideon sat near the stove cleaning his rifle.
He watched her without appearing to.
Her sleeves were rolled above thick forearms.
Dough covered her fingers.
Her hair hung loose around her flushed face.
Her body leaned into the table with each push.
Gideon’s gaze lingered.
Then irritation rose.
Not with her.
With himself.
He looked back at the rifle.
“You breathe loud.”
Martha stopped.
Silence.
Gideon knew immediately he had made a mistake.
She slowly turned.
“What?”
He kept his eyes on the rifle.
“When you haul water.”
“You sound like a broke-down draft horse.”
Martha wiped her hands on a cloth.
“Do I?”
“Takes you twice as long.”
She walked toward him.
Gideon looked up.
Martha stopped directly before the chair.
She was breathing hard now for an entirely different reason.
“You climbed this mountain alone for years?”
“Yes.”
“You hauled every bucket?”
“Yes.”
“Split every log?”
“Yes.”
“Cooked?”
“Sometimes.”
“Cleaned?”
Gideon hesitated.
Martha laughed.
“Clearly not.”
His jaw tightened.
“You're missing the point.”
“No.”
Martha leaned down until her face was close to his.
“You are.”
Gideon held her gaze.
Martha said:
“You brought me up here to see if I’d break.”
“Yes.”
“At least you admit it.”
“You're slow.”
“And yet your water bucket is full.”
“You sweat.”
“And yet your woodpile grows.”
“You breathe too loud.”
Martha’s eyes flashed.
“And yet every evening you eat what I cook until the plate looks polished.”
Gideon stood.
Now they were nearly chest to chest.
Martha did not move.
He towered over her.
Usually that worked on people.
Not Martha.
“You're stubborn.”
She smiled without warmth.
“So are you.”
“You don't know what winter is up here.”
“No.”
“I know you're trying very hard to make sure I don't stay long enough to learn.”
Gideon froze.
Martha continued.
“Seven women.”
His face changed.
“So that's what this is.”
“What?”
“You don't choose wives.”
“You conduct executions.”
“Stop.”
“No.”
She jabbed one finger into his chest.
“You've decided wanting comfort is weakness.”
“You've decided asking for kindness is weakness.”
“You've decided if a woman cries, she's weak.”
“You've decided if she can't lift what you lift, she's useless.”
Gideon caught her wrist.
Not roughly.
Firmly.
Martha looked at his hand.
Then up.
“Let go.”
He did.
Immediately.
That surprised her.
Gideon stepped back.
“You don't know why I sent them away.”
“Then tell me.”
He stared.
The storm groaned around them.
“I don't want someone depending on me for every damn breath.”
Martha’s anger softened slightly.
Gideon continued:
“My mother did.”
“She waited for my father to decide everything.”
“When he died, she lasted one winter.”
“I was fourteen.”
Martha listened.
“She didn't know the traps.”
“Couldn't shoot.”
“Couldn't split wood.”
“Wouldn't leave the cabin.”
“She froze during the storm because I was two valleys over and couldn't get back.”
Gideon’s voice became quieter.
“I found her beside a dead stove.”
Martha’s face changed.
Gideon looked toward the fire.
“So yes.”
“I test.”
“I don't want someone who needs carrying.”
Martha stayed silent.
Then:
“You could've said that without acting like an animal.”
Gideon looked at her.
Martha stepped closer again.
“But now I understand.”
He waited.
She said:
“You're not testing whether I’m strong.”
“You're testing whether I can survive you abandoning me.”
That hit.
Gideon’s expression hardened.
“I wouldn't abandon—”
“You have.”
“Every day.”
She pointed toward the door.
“You disappear.”
“You watch me fall.”
“You leave work meant for two people and call it proof.”
“You make the cabin miserable before winter even arrives.”
“Then you tell yourself you're protecting us both.”
Gideon said nothing.
Martha’s voice dropped.
“If you want a partner, Gideon, act like one.”
Silence.
Then she turned.
Returned to the bread.
Gideon stood behind her.
Something inside him shifted.
The next morning, Martha went for water.
Halfway down the slope, Gideon appeared beside her.
She looked at him.
“What?”
He took one bucket.
Martha stared.
“I can carry it.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Gideon started downhill.
“Because there's two.”
Martha smiled.
He did not see.
By the end of the first week, partnership began.
Awkwardly.
Gideon split logs while Martha stacked.
Martha cooked while Gideon cleaned pans.
Badly.
She made him redo them.
He trapped.
She learned skinning.
The first rabbit made her nauseous.
Gideon noticed.
“You going to cry?”
Martha glared.
“Say that again and I’ll use the rabbit on you.”
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
It transformed his face.
Martha stared.
Gideon noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're looking.”
“You have teeth.”
He grinned.
Martha turned away before he saw her smile.
Attraction arrived slowly.
Then all at once.
Martha first became aware of it while Gideon repaired the roof.
He had removed his shirt.
She stepped outside carrying coffee.
Stopped.
His back was broad.
Muscles shifting beneath sun-browned skin.
Old scars crossed one shoulder.
His hair fell damp around his face.
Martha stared too long.
Gideon looked down from the roof.
“Problem?”
She raised the cup.
“Coffee.”
He climbed down.
Martha handed it over without looking at his chest.
That became impossible when he stood close.
He drank.
Then:
“You're red.”
“Cold.”
“You're sweating.”
“I’m working.”
Gideon smiled.
Martha narrowed her eyes.
“Don't.”
“Don't what?”
“Enjoy yourself.”
He laughed.
She walked inside.
Gideon watched her go.
Then looked down at his chest.
Interesting.
Two nights later, Martha woke because the room was freezing.
The fire had burned low.
She climbed from the pallet Gideon had built beside the stove.
He still slept in the bed.
That arrangement irritated her less than the floor, but only slightly.
Martha added wood.
Behind her:
“You cold?”
She turned.
Gideon sat upright.
Bare chest visible above the furs.
Martha looked away too quickly.
“No.”
“You're shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
Gideon lifted the furs.
“Come here.”
Martha stared.
“What?”
“Bed's warm.”
Her heart changed rhythm.
“Gideon.”
“It's a bed.”
“With you in it.”
“Yes.”
Martha crossed her arms.
“I’m not climbing into your bed because the fire went down.”
“Then freeze.”
“You're charming.”
She returned to the pallet.
Gideon lay down.
Five minutes later Martha was still awake.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Her teeth began chattering.
From the darkness: