Jake stood, pulling her up with him. When would you like to marry? I know women like time to plan. Jake, Margaret interrupted. I'm 43 years old.
I've already had the elaborate wedding with all the trimmings. What I want now is simple. You, me, and a life built on truth and partnership. We could marry tomorrow and I'd be happy. Christmas, he suggested.
Give the men something to celebrate. Give us a new beginning with the new year. "Christmas, " she agreed. "Though you realize this means I'll be cooking my own wedding dinner. I'll help.
He promised. We'll make it together. Together? The word settled around her like a warm shawl. After months of facing everything alone, the promise of partnership was more precious than any ring.
They returned to the kitchen to find half the ranch hands mysteriously needing something from inside. Tom was the least subtle, grinning widely as he noticed their joined hands and the sapphire catching the light. "About time, " he declared, "Mrs. Sullivan, soon to be Mrs. Caldwell, you've made an honest man of our boss. Tom Bradley, Jake said sternly, though his eyes held amusement. Don't you have work to do?
Yes, sir. Right away, sir. But Tom paused at the door. Congratulations, both of you. This ranch hasn't felt like home in years.
Now it does again. As the day progressed, cowboys found excuses to stop by the kitchen, offering congratulations and shy compliments. Margaret accepted their good wishes while managing her usual routine, though she found herself distracted by the unfamiliar weight of the ring on her finger. That evening, as she served dinner to the assembled men, Jake stood and cleared his throat. Gentlemen, I have an announcement.
Mrs. Sullivan has agreed to make an honest man of me. We'll be married on Christmas Day, and you're all invited to the celebration. The cheer that went up could probably be heard in town. Men pounded the table, whistled, and called out, "Congratulations. " Bill raised his coffee cup in a toast.
To the best cook and the bravest woman in Texas. Here, here, the others chorused. Margaret felt herself blushing, but also glowing with happiness. These rough cowboys had become her family over the past months. Their genuine joy at her happiness touched her deeply.
Later, as she washed dishes and Jake dried, insisting on helping despite her protests, they talked about practical matters. Where she would move her things, how to arrange the house for two people instead of one, what changes she might want to make. Nothing major, she said, hands deep in soapy water. Though, perhaps curtains in the main room and a rug by the fireplace. Oh, and we really should repaint the kitchen, Margaret.