I reckon you do. They sat there for a long moment, their shoulders touching. I used to hate this view, Maggie admitted. I used to think it was trying to swallow me. And now, now, she said, looking at the horizon.
I think it is just holding its breath, waiting to see if we are strong enough to stay. We are, Eli said. As the leaves on the cottonwoods turned to gold, the rhythm of their life settled into something steady and deep. The frantic desperation of the early days was gone, replaced by a quiet companionship. They no longer slept with a foot of cold space between them.
The nights were growing cool, but the bed was warm. They claimed each other with a passion that had lost its edge of fear, but none of its intensity. It was a slow, savoring love now. They made love with the windows open to the night air, not caring if the wind heard them. They were husband and wife, partners, lovers, and friends.
In the evenings, after the chores were done, they would sit in the parlor. The new wallpaper was a cheerful yellow bought from the catalog with the first profits of the restructured loan. Eli would clean his guns or mend tack and Maggie would read aloud from the book she had ordered. Dickens mostly or poetry by Tennyson. One rainy night in October, a wagon rattled into the yard.
It was the Swensons, the family whose homestead had burned. They were moving on, heading to Oregon. But they had a passenger they could not take with them. He is a stray, Mr. Swenson explained, standing awkwardly in the kitchen, holding his hat.
Found him hiding in our root cellar after the fire. Says his name is Toby. Says his folks died of the fever on the trail last winter. We We cannot feed another mouth on the road. Eli, we barely have enough for our own.
Eli looked at the boy. Toby was perhaps 10 years old, skinny as a rail with hair the color of straw and eyes that were too old for his face. He stood by the door, shivering in a coat that was three sizes too big, waiting to be sent away. Maggie looked at him and her heart stopped. She saw the hunger in his shoulders.
She saw the terrified stillness of a child who expects the world to hurt him. She saw her sister Sarah standing in the cold of a New York street. She dropped the dish rag she was holding and walked over to him. She knelt down so she was eye level with the boy. "Hello, Toby," she said.
The boy did not answer. He stared at her boots. "Do you know how to peel potatoes? " she asked. The boy blinked, surprised by the question. "Yes, ma'am. " "Good," she said, standing up.
"Because I have a bushel of them, and my husband has an appetite like a bear. If you help me with supper, you earn a seat at the table. Does that sound fair? Toby looked at Eli. Eli looked at the boy, then at Maggie.