Maggie stood by a barrel of nails, trying to make herself small. Eli did not look at her, but she saw the muscle in his jaw jumping. He was ashamed of her, she thought. He was embarrassed to be seen with a stray cat he had ordered through the post. When the supplies were loaded, they walked to the small wooden church at the edge of town.
The Reverend Thomas was waiting for them. He was a thin man with eyes that looked tired. The church was empty. The pews were dusty, and the air inside was stiflingly hot. There were no flowers, no music, no family to weep or smile.
Just the three of them in the silent judging presence of the empty cross on the wall. Reverend Thomas opened his book. Dearly beloved. "We are gathered here," he began. The words echoing hollowly against the bare wood.
Maggie looked at Eli's hands. They were large, brown, and scarred from work. They hung at his sides, clenched into fists. As the reverend asked for the ring, Eli fumbled in his vest pocket and produced a simple gold band, thin and old. "Give me your hand," Eli said.
She held out her hand. It shook as he slid the ring onto her finger. His own hand trembled. It was a violent tremor, a shudder that ran through his arm. His skin was warm and dry, rough against her own.
For a second, he didn't let go. He held her fingers, his grip tight, almost desperate. She looked up at his face, but he was staring at the ring, his expression unreadable. I pronounce you man and wife. The reverend said it.
It was done. There was no kiss. Eli simply nodded to the preacher, placed a few coins on the altar, and turned to her. We have a long ride. Mrs.
Mercer. The name felt heavy, like a winter coat she hadn't chosen. Yes, Mr. Mercer. Eli, you should call me Eli.
Eli, she repeated. The word felt strange in her mouth. The ride to the ranch took the rest of the day. They left the town behind, and with it the last vestiges of civilization. The road became a pair of ruts winding through the sagebrush.
The sun began its slow descent, turning the world into a furnace of orange and blinding gold. Maggie watched the land change. It grew wilder, rockier. The grass was sparse, brown clumps clinging to the earth. Coyotes began to sing from the ridges, their yips and howls sounding like the laughter of madmen.
"Is it Is it always this quiet? " she asked, her voice small against the vastness. Eli kept his eyes on the horizon. The wind blows mostly. "When it stops? " "Yes, it is quiet. How far is the nearest neighbor?