But she could have his respect.
His partnership.
The love of his children.
For now, that would have to be enough.
The first public test came on a Sunday morning 3 weeks after the wedding.
Thomas announced they would attend church in town.
Eleanor's stomach tightened as she dressed the boys in their best clothes.
This would be her first appearance before Bitter Creek as Mrs. Thomas Caldwell.
She chose the navy wool dress again.
Still the finest she owned.
Pinned her hair severely.
In the mirror, she saw a woman older than 25.
Marked by recent hardship.
But determined to stand straight.
The wagon ride to town remained mostly quiet.
Wheels crunched through snow that had thawed and frozen into hard ruts.
Daniel sat beside his father on the front bench.
Eleanor rode behind them with Samuel, who talked excitedly about seeing his friends.
She wished she shared his enthusiasm.
Bitter Creek's church was a simple wooden building whose bell tower could be heard for miles across open prairie.
As the Caldwell wagon approached, Eleanor saw families arriving.
Breath steaming in cold air.
Neighbors greeting one another with the familiarity of years.
Conversations began stopping as the wagon rolled closer.
Eleanor felt every pair of eyes when Thomas helped her down.
Whispers began before her boots reached the ground.
"Quick work, wasn't it?"
"Poor Margaret hardly cold in her grave."
"Schoolteacher thinks she's landed herself quite a prize."
Eleanor lifted her chin.
Took Samuel's hand.
Followed Thomas toward the doors.
The crowd parted.
Whispers resumed in low urgent tones behind them.
Inside, scrutiny intensified.
Every movement seemed watched as the family entered the Caldwell pew.
The same pew where Margaret had once held babies and sung hymns in a voice people still remembered.
Mrs. Henderson, the banker's wife, leaned close to Mrs. Patterson.
Both glanced openly at Eleanor.
Disapproval.
Hostility.
Eleanor sat upright between Thomas and Samuel and focused on Reverend Morrison's sermon about charity and Christian kindness.
The irony was difficult to miss.
Afterward came the real trial.
The congregation gathered outside for its weekly social hour.
Eleanor became the center of attention she never wanted.
"Mrs. Caldwell."
Mrs. Henderson approached wearing a smile that did not reach her eyes.
"How are you finding married life?"
Her gaze traveled over Eleanor's dress.
"Quite different from teaching school, I imagine."
"Different, yes. But rewarding."
"I'm sure it must be such a lovely home."
Mrs. Henderson tilted her head.
"And of course the security that comes with marrying so well."
The emphasis made her meaning plain.
Other women drifted nearer, attracted by gossip.
Eleanor recognized most from her teaching days.
They had once been polite, if never especially warm.
Now their tone was distinctly cold.
"It must be difficult," Mrs. Patterson said with false sympathy. "Stepping into dear Margaret's shoes."
"Margaret was certainly special," Eleanor replied.
"Oh, she was more than special," Mrs. Jenkins interjected. "Practically a saint."
Several women nodded.
"The way she cared for everyone. Always soup for the sick. Helping with births."
Mrs. Jenkins placed a hand over her chest.
"When my youngest was born, Margaret stayed with me 3 days. Hardly slept."