"Because staying where I was would have killed me eventually. This way, at least I'm trying something different."
Harlon studied her for a long moment.
"You're tougher than you look."
"I'd have to be to survive St. Louis. This ranch can't be worse than that."
"You'd be surprised."
He stood, draining his coffee.
"We'll do the marriage proper tomorrow. Reverend can come out. Make it legal."
"All right."
"Boys sleep upstairs. Your room's at the end of the hall."
He pulled a rusted iron key from his pocket and set it on the table between them.
"Door locks if you want privacy."
Norah picked up the key.
It was heavy.
Old.
The kind of thing that had seen decades of use.
"Thank you."
Harlon nodded and headed for the door, then paused.
"Norah."
"Yes?"
"Whatever else happens, thank you for supper. Boys needed that."
Then he was gone.
Disappeared into the night to check on something that probably didn't need checking, but gave him an excuse to be alone.
Norah finished cleaning, then made her way upstairs.
The hallway was narrow and dark.
She could hear the boys in their rooms.
Soft conversations.
The creak of beds.
The sounds of children settling for sleep.
Her room was at the very end.
She unlocked the door with the iron key and stepped inside.
It was small.
Sparse.
A bed.
A dresser.
A window that looked out over land too dark to see.
Someone had left her bag on the bed.
Norah sat down, the key still in her hand, and felt the weight of everything crash into her at once.
She had married a man she'd just met.
Agreed to raise six boys who didn't want a new mother.
Moved to the edge of civilization, where one bad season could mean starvation.
She should have been terrified.
Instead, she felt something else.
Something she hadn't felt in years.
Purpose.
These boys needed someone.
This family was breaking apart slowly, held together by nothing but Harlon's stubborn refusal to quit and Thomas's premature adulthood.
The ranch was failing.
The town was dying.
Everything was balanced on the edge of collapse.
But Norah had built a life from nothing before.
She'd survived a factory fire, widowhood, poverty, and predatory landlords.
She'd stitched dresses with hands that bled.
She'd gone hungry so others could eat.
She was still standing.
And if she could survive all that, she could survive this.