Elias considered it carefully. Hiding her would not stop suspicion. He answered plainly, "Stay in the yard. Work if you can. People notice work more than shadows."
She gave a faint smile, almost the ghost of the girl he once knew. Then I will work. At the store, Elias bought flour, salt, and a bolt of coarse cotton. The storekeeper's eyes narrowed, but Elias met his stare without flinching. "She'll need the cloth," Elias said, paying in cash.
It was the first time he had spoken of her as if she belonged. When he returned, Nielli had swept the porch, gathered kindling, and washed the plates. She stood waiting, hands raw from scrubbing, but her chin lifted. Elias handed her the cloth without comment, and she accepted it with quiet dignity. That night, as they sat by the stove, Elias spoke of the land.
Back quarters good soil if worked right. Needs a strong windbreak. Could plant corn there next spring. He didn't know why he said it. Maybe to test the sound of a future spoken aloud.
Nielli listened, her eyes steady on him, and then she answered, "Windreak needs brush set low." I can show you. We did that south of the river. The moment hung between them. It wasn't a promise yet, but it was more than survival.
For the first time, the thought of building something together edged into both their minds, though neither said it outright. When the lamps were turned low, Elias took the chair again and left her the bed. She lay awake for a while, listening to his steady breathing, her ribs aching less than before. For the first time in weeks, she felt she could close her eyes without fear of what waited when they opened. And Elias, staring into the dark, realized that his house, once only a refuge for his solitude, no longer felt like a place meant for one.
The next morning, the air carried a strange stillness. The sky was pale, but a thin brown haze hovered over the flats, promising trouble. Elias had seen it before. Wind building up across open land, ready to drive dust into every crack of wood and mouth of livestock. He set his jaw and began checking the windmill, tightening bolts and bracing the blades so they wouldn't shake loose.
Nielli watched from the stoop, her braid pulled tight, the wrap around her ribs hidden beneath the coarse cotton he had brought her from town. She recognized the weight in his movements. This was preparation. When Elias came back to yard, she asked directly what is coming. He studied her for a moment, then answered without softening it.
Dust storm strong enough to choke the cattle, blind a man if he's caught outside. We'll need water set close and every latch tight. He paused before adding, "You sure you're up for work?" Her expression was steady. If I cannot work in a storm, I should not be here.