Clementine shocked Oak Haven by refusing three marriage proposals.
Then shocked everyone further by opening a small dressmaking shop with money Mabel loaned her.
She became extraordinarily successful.
Apparently years of being treated as decoration had taught her exactly how clothing could make women feel either imprisoned or powerful.
Martha received a reduced sentence after the stolen cattle were recovered unharmed and evidence showed she had not intended permanent theft.
Her relationship with Mabel remained complicated.
But it existed.
Edwin stayed at Longhorn Valley.
Not as Mabel’s father.
Not immediately.
He understood he had not earned the title.
They began with coffee.
Then conversation.
Then long rides.
Slowly, painfully, they constructed something new from the ruins of what should have been.
And Harrison?
Harrison waited.
For six months.
Which, according to Clementine, was the first impressive thing he had ever done.
On Christmas Eve, Mabel stood in the kitchen of Longhorn Valley’s main house.
Flour covered her hands.
Snow pressed against the windows.
Cinnamon filled the room.
Harrison appeared in the doorway.
“You know,” he said, “this is becoming familiar.”
Mabel continued kneading dough.
“If you mention honey biscuits, I’ll throw this at you.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were.”
“I was considering it.”
He entered.
Outside, ranch hands laughed as they decorated the dining hall.
Clementine was expected within the hour.
So were Josiah and Edwin.
A strange family.
An imperfect family.
But perhaps most families were strange once the doors closed.
Harrison leaned against the table.
“I have a question.”
Mabel did not look up.
“Winter feed should have been purchased in August.”
“Different question.”
“Then ask.”
He reached into his pocket.
Mabel froze.
“No.”
Harrison stopped.
“No?”
“You are not getting on one knee while I’m covered in flour.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“You absolutely were.”
He looked offended.
“I own thirty thousand cattle. I am capable of adjusting a plan.”
“Forty thousand.”
“What?”
“After autumn purchases.”
Harrison sighed.
“This is why marrying my business partner is dangerous.”
Mabel smiled.
He stepped closer.
Then, instead of kneeling, Harrison placed the ring beside the dough.
No speech.
No audience.
No spectacle.
Only him.
Only her.
“Mabel Higgins,” he said, “the first night I saw you, this town had spent twenty-four years teaching you that you belonged behind a door.”
Her eyes filled.
“You walked through it anyway.”
He took her flour-covered hand.
Just as he had at the jubilee.
Only this time, she did not freeze.
“You have more money than I do now,” he continued.
“Correct.”
“You argue constantly.”
“Also correct.”
“You have reorganized half my ranch without permission.”
“It needed reorganizing.”
“You terrified three foremen.”
“They were inefficient.”
“And you have made my life significantly more difficult.”
Mabel smiled through tears.
“I’m waiting for the romantic portion.”
Harrison moved closer.
“This is the romantic portion.”
She laughed.
He squeezed her hand.
“I don’t want a beautiful wife.”
Mabel raised an eyebrow.
“Careful.”
“I want the woman who sees what everyone else misses.”
His voice softened.
“The woman who makes a home out of rooms other people use to hide her.”
A tear escaped down her cheek.
“The woman who knows that kindness without courage isn’t enough.”
Another tear.
“The woman who told me I couldn’t afford her.”
Mabel whispered, “You still can’t.”
“I know.”
He smiled.
“That is why I’m asking for credit.”
She laughed so hard she had to wipe her face with her sleeve.
Then he became serious.
“Mabel, marry me.”
Outside, bells began ringing from Oak Haven church.
She looked at Harrison Cole.
The man every unmarried woman in Wyoming supposedly wanted.
Once, that fact would have frightened her.
Now it seemed almost irrelevant.
Because the greatest thing Harrison had ever given Mabel was not wealth.
Not status.
Not Longhorn Valley.
