Mara tried to hide her smile.
That was the first time the cabin sounded less empty.
Silver Creek learned about her quickly.
By Sunday, Mara Mercer was “the enormous bride from Nebraska.” By Monday, people were discussing whether Elias had been deceived by the matrimonial paper. By Tuesday, Wesley Dunn had reportedly described her as “a draft horse in church clothes.”
Beatrice heard him.
She asked whether he had ever considered that God might give ugly opinions to handsome men so nobody would notice their faces.
Wesley avoided the post office for three days.
At church, women looked at Mara's shoulders.
Men tried not to.
Mara wore a dark green dress she had sewn herself, tailored to fit her body rather than disguise it. She sat beside Elias in the third pew with her hands folded loosely in her lap.
Mrs. Cora Bellamy whispered behind them.
“I suppose Elias will never need to hire help for lifting furniture.”
Mara heard.
She did not turn around.
After the service, Mrs. Bellamy dropped her hymnal.
Mara picked it up and handed it to her.
“You dropped this.”
Nothing more.
Mrs. Bellamy's face turned red.
Elias watched the exchange and felt something uncomfortable move through him.
Silver Creek's cruelty bothered him.
What bothered him more was recognizing the softer version of it inside himself.
He had not mocked Mara when she arrived.
He had simply wished, for one guilty moment, that she had been smaller.
That realization followed him home.
Three weeks later, Brutus broke loose.
It happened just before dawn after a frozen trough cracked a rail near the barn. Elias heard wood split from inside the cabin and ran outside while fastening his shirt. The bull stood in the yard with steam rising from his hide.
His head was lowered.
One hoof scraped frozen dirt.
Elias grabbed a rope.
“Stay inside!” he shouted when the cabin door opened.
Mara stepped onto the porch barefoot.
Her hair hung loose around her shoulders.
“Get back in the house.”
She did not.
Instead, she walked slowly down the steps.
“Don't make him more frightened.”
“Frightened?”
“He's outside his pen with two humans yelling at him.”
“He'll kill you.”
“Possibly.”
“Mara.”
“Stop shouting.”
Brutus snorted.
Mara lowered her shoulders and moved sideways rather than straight toward him.
Elias stood with the rope clenched in one hand.
She began speaking quietly.
He could not hear the words.
Brutus's ears moved.
His head lifted slightly.
Mara took another step.
Then another.
Six feet separated them.
Elias stopped breathing.
Mara extended one hand.
“Easy.”
Brutus shook his head once.
Then went still.
Her palm touched the side of his shoulder.
The bull released a long breath.
Mara took the rope from Elias without looking at him, slipped it around Brutus, and led the animal back toward the damaged pen.
Elias followed.
When the gate was secured, he stared at her.
“You could have been killed.”
Mara nodded.
“Yes.”
“You knew that?”
“Yes.”