Joseph tucked his chin against the biting wind and left the barn. He clung to the clothesline he’d stretched from the house yesterday before the blizzard had hit. The storm had worsened and he couldn’t see three feet in front of himself. The swirling snow snuck under the brim of his hat and stung his skin and eyes.

Eleanora, his wife of only four months, had wanted a white Christmas, but he couldn’t imagine her wanting this. The Colorado wilderness was a lonely, difficult place. There was nothing easy about ranching here. But it was beautiful. A wild beauty that had called to something inside of him.

Of course, he’d long ago decided there was something wrong with him. He wasn’t like the other children at the orphanage. He couldn’t manage to sit still for lessons and often received punishment for disrupting the quiet classroom. He could do sums but had a hard time with reading. The silly letters never would stay still—like him, they wanted to jump and dance and move.

He’d struck out on his own at fourteen. Done what he could to survive. By the time he’d been eighteen and found himself in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, he’d fallen in love with the barren, big-sky country.

Ten years later, he was so lonely he was almost feral. During his annual trip to town, he’d overheard a shopkeeper telling about his friend who’d got himself a mail-order bride.

Joseph had been intrigued. Maybe he didn’t have to be alone anymore.

He had one friend in town. AnnaJane, who worked for her father at the dry goods store. Joseph had begged her to help him craft a mail-order bride advertisement. They’d agreed that she would answer any letters that came, choose his bride, and he’d even left her some money to send a train ticket for the lucky lady. He’d promised to return in three months to wed his new bride.

And when he’d shown up at the little mountain church, Eleanora had been waiting.

Now his boot banged against the house, saving him from walking right into it since he couldn’t see a thing. He followed the wall to the back door and wrenched it open.

Heat from inside blasted him in the face. The log cabin was snug and watertight and had served him well for a decade.

Eleanora was sitting on the rocking chair, knitting, and jumped up at the sight of him.

He was never going to get used to the way she startled when he came inside. Or when he stood up too quick and she wasn’t expecting it.

“Hello, husband.” She covered up her uncertainty with a charming smile and set aside her knitting.

He realized snowflakes were blowing in the door around him and wrenched it shut. Quiet descended in the cabin.

Ralph, who’d once been a tiny kitten but was now an overgrown ball of orange fur, gave a single ear-twitch from where he was curled up in a ball on the bed. On Joseph’s pillow.

He gave the cat a sideways glare, but when he caught Eleanora looking, he twisted his features into a smile.

She seemed to breathe a little easier, her shoulders relaxing. “You look half-frozen. Let me help you.”

He never protested when she approached him. Never would. In those first few days, she’d been so tentative…

Now she helped him off with the heavy buffalo-hide coat and hung his hat on the peg next to the door.

“Your poor hands.” She pressed one of his big mitts between her two delicate hands. His were calloused and chapped from the cold. Hers were almost as soft as the cat’s fur and still bore scars from the first few weeks she’d spent on the ranch.

To be honest, he was a little surprised she’d let them get that way. The first time he’d laid eyes on her, she was standing on the rickety boardwalk outside AnnaJane’s store. She had on the frilliest dress with the widest skirt he’d ever seen. And a bonnet with so many flowers they’d wobbled six inches above her head. And those gloves… they were white as clouds and he’d been afraid that one touch of his hand would stain them beyond repair.

He’d thought, This is the woman AnnaJane picked for me?

The closer he’d walked to her, the wider and more uncertain her eyes had gotten. He must’ve looked like a bear, coming off the mountain in his buckskin breeches, with his hair wild and his beard down to his collar. He’d thought it would be better to meet her as he usually looked. No pretending.

But the moment he’d laid eyes on her breathtaking beauty, he’d wished he’d made more of an effort. There was something ethereal about her. Her blonde hair was tucked up under that fancy hat, but a few curls had escaped and peeked out near her jaw. Her ice-blue eyes had captivated him from the first connection.

He was still captivated, four months later. Otherwise, why would he be standing just inside the door, dripping on the floor and staring at the top of her head like a man whose tongue had been cut out?

“I have some ointment that might keep your skin from cracking,” she said softly, still focused on his hands.

He had to shake his head a little to break out of the spiderweb his thoughts had caught him up in.

“That’s real thoughtful.”

She looked up at him with tentative hope in her eyes.

She was so beautiful that his tongue got tied up and all he wanted to do was sweep her into his arms.

But he still wasn’t sure if she’d want that.

So he cleared his throat and ducked his chin. “I better get dried off before I make a swimming hole in here. I’ll mop up in a minute.”

She was already jumping into action before he’d stepped off the rug. “I’ll do it.”

He pinched his lips together to keep a frown from forming. He didn’t want her to feel like she always had to clean up after him. He’d been on his own for as long as he could remember. Even at the orphanage, he’d had to take care of himself. No one else would.

He just didn’t want her to feel like she had to. He was plenty capable.

And he didn’t want her to feel like he’d tricked her into a life of drudgery. Life on the remote ranch was hard work. He tried to make it easy on her by taking the lion’s share.

Truth was, there was a part of him that feared she’d get tired of all the work and decide she didn’t want to live out here in the wilderness anymore. Her fine gowns and trunk full of books were as out of place here as she was—a hothouse flower in a wild mountain meadow.

He didn’t know what he’d do if she figured it out.

And he didn’t know what he was gonna do if her Christmas gift didn’t arrive. He’d sent a letter to AnnaJane two months ago, asking her to order the finest lace shawl she could find. AnnaJane would send it to him with whoever happened to be traveling his way.

Eleanora would like something like that, wouldn’t she? Something as fine and fancy as the dresses she’d brought with her?

Only he hadn’t counted on the storm. Not a soul would be traveling in this kind of weather.

He prayed for the storm to stop.

Eleanora prayed for the blizzard to keep on blizzarding.

She knew the animals were safe in the barn. And maybe if it kept snowing, Joseph would be forced to stay inside the cabin.

And perhaps if they were forced to be inside together, she could find a way to tell him the secret that seemed to grow bigger with each passing day.

She used a towel to mop up the water from where he’d come inside. She worked quickly, sneaking glances at him as he changed his socks.

“I put on some venison stew,” she said. “It should be almost ready. And I mended your shirt. And after I clean up from the meal, I’ll darn your socks.”

“I can darn my own socks. Especially if I can’t get outside to work.”

She stiffened and turned away to put the towel away. And also so that he wouldn’t see the way her lips trembled.

She should’ve kept her mouth shut. She had spent weeks trying to endear herself to him—trying to make herself so valuable that he would never, ever think about sending her back East. She’d started by giving the cabin a full top-to-bottom cleaning. She’d hung curtains and sewed him a new shirt and tried everything she could think of to make sure his life was easier because of her.

He sat down at the little table that he’d crafted with his own hands. She’d been impressed by his skill when he’d told her. The table was simple but finely-crafted. The chairs were the same. He must’ve spent hours on each. Like the cabin itself, they showed the care he put into the homestead he’d built.

She’d never met anybody like him.

Of course, she’d never had a chance. Back home, Papa had controlled her movements so very carefully. He’d chosen her friends, chosen her activities, even chosen the man he wanted her to marry.

Eleanora had gone along with Papa’s choices, up until Dorian had hit her for the first time, a month before their wedding. Oh, he’d been careful. Careful not to hit her in a place where the bruise would show. Careful to call it an accident, though she knew it hadn’t been.

When she’d told Papa, his only response was that she shouldn’t have angered her fiancé.

She’d known then that she couldn’t go through with the wedding. But she hadn’t had many choices. She’d prayed for deliverance and it was pure happenstance that her maid had left a newspaper beneath Eleanora’s breakfast tray one morning. A newspaper that happened to have several advertisements for mail-order brides. She’d read Joseph’s listing and answered it immediately, bribing her maid to mail the letter for her.

The post wasn’t fast. She’d worried that maybe she wouldn’t be able to escape marriage to Dorian, who’d grown increasingly jealous and controlling. She’d prayed for deliverance.

And a letter from Joseph—with train fare—had arrived the day before she was supposed to marry Dorian.

She’d run away the very next morning, leaving home in the moments before dawn. She’d looked over her shoulder during the entire train journey to Colorado. She’d begun to let herself believe she’d escaped during the exhausting stagecoach journey to the tiny mountain town.

It wasn’t until she stood on that boardwalk waiting for Joseph that she’d felt a niggle of worry about what she’d promised to do. Marry a stranger.

Marry Joseph, who had frightened her the first time she’d glimpsed him. He was a mountain of a man, all shoulders, and as tall as an oak. He hadn’t seen a comb in far too long and his dark curls were rioting about his head. And his beard…

She’d kept herself from recoiling but hadn’t been able to hide her flinch when he’d stuck out his hand to shake hers. She still woke up sometimes in the dark part of the night, dreaming about that moment. In her nightmare, Joseph’s eyes hadn’t turned soft the way they had in reality. The dream Joseph turned away with a sneer like Dorian’s and left her standing there with nowhere to go and no money.

But Joseph wasn’t Dorian. He proved it every day. He’d taken time to show her his homestead. His eyes had shone with pride and awe as he’d revealed to her the mountains in their autumn splendor, the aspens turning gold. He’d introduced her to both of his horses and had rescued her from Ralph’s kitten claws during the first few moments when the cat had thought the tassels on her shawl were a plaything. He provided meat for their table and worked hard to give her everything she could need.

Almost everything.

The thing she wanted most was him. He held himself carefully distant. She didn’t know anything about his childhood or his family. She didn’t know if he dreamed of growing old on this homestead or if he wanted something more. She didn’t know if he was falling in love with her, the way she was falling for him.

And she didn’t know how to ask.

But surely if they were trapped in the cabin together—please, God—for days, he would have to talk to her, wouldn’t he? The finishing school Papa had insisted on had taught her many social graces and how to make casual conversation, but not how to talk to her husband. She was going to have to discover that for herself.

He was making her nervous.

There was no other explanation for it as Eleanora flitted about the cabin while the storm blustered on. He couldn’t see any speck of dirt on the window, but she’d insisted on washing it. Even though a body couldn’t see more than six inches outside. She’d folded and then re-folded the quilt on the end of the bed.

Now she’d put away the washrag but gone back to stare out the window. She was sitting on the end of the bed with her legs curled beneath her. One hand rested lightly against her belly. There was nothing to see out the window. Was she upset?

His gut lurched and he put aside the darning he’d picked up after supper so she wouldn’t have to do it. He thought that maybe he would go to her, but she kept her face averted and he took the coward’s way out. He moved to stoke the fire in the stove. The heat from inside blasted his face. Or maybe it was a blush that was warming his skin as he stood back up.

“Are you missing home?” he guessed. He didn’t know how he could make things right for her.

She glanced at him, her eyes large in her face. And shadowed. “It’s very different here. But no, I do not miss home.”

Something that had been wrapped tight inside him unfurled a bit. “There’s not anything you miss?” Or anyone?

Her eyes seemed to get a faraway look in them. She tilted her head and he knew she must be remembering something. Her glance cut to him and then away.

“When I was very little, my mother and father would host a Christmas party for their friends. I was young and not allowed to stay up, but I can remember hearing the music and lying in bed imagining my mother dancing.”

Music and dancing. There was only silence here on this mountain ranch. Only the music of the wind.

But perhaps…

He stood and picked up the rocking chair, moving it to the space between the end of the bed and the wall. It barely fit. Then he pushed the table against the door.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He turned both chairs upside-down and stacked them on the table. Now there was a small square of empty floor space. It wasn’t much, but maybe it would do.

“I can’t provide a party, but perhaps we could dance. If you show me how.”

She stared at him until the back of his neck went hot. Had he made a fool of himself?

But then she smiled slightly and stood up. Her fancy skirt swished as she came to him.

“What shall we do for music?” she asked.

His thoughts blanked as she slipped her delicate hand into his big paw, standing close now. He swallowed hard. Looking down into her face, he was struck anew by her beauty.

She began humming a Christmas tune he almost recognized. And then she moved and he found his feet stuck to the floor as if he’d stepped in sticky sap.

She giggled and directed him in the dance. Soon he was partnering her—not well, but at least not stepping on her toes. Her face shone up at him, lit from within.

She started singing and he was dazzled by her voice.

He didn’t know the words to the carol she sang, but his feet found a rhythm and she matched him. His hands at her waist made his blood rush hot through his veins.

“Jingle Bells” was the next song from her lips and he found himself singing along, at first with reluctance. And then with more heart as her smile grew wider.

Somewhere, he found the spirit to twirl her away and back to him. Her skirts brushed his legs as she stumbled slightly and landed against him. She was breathless and giggling and he had never had this before, these moments full of joy and singing and laughter.

She was so close and he was dizzy from the headiness of this magical moment in time. Without thinking about it, he dipped his head and brushed her lips with a kiss.

She froze under his touch.

He pulled back slightly, afraid that he’d frightened her. Aching to kiss her again but fearful that his overture was too much.

He’d learned long ago that wanting didn’t mean that he would receive. He braced himself for her to reject his touch, closing his eyes and beginning to pull away.

But then it was his turn to freeze as she reached up and touched his jaw, her fingers tentative against his beard.

“Kiss me again,” she whispered.

So he did.

Joseph woke in the dark hours of the early morning. The wind still whistled around the cabin and the darkness outside the window felt oppressive. The storm still raged.

Eleanora would not have her gift in time for Christmas morning.

He thought about their evening of singing and laughter. And the kisses they’d shared. He’d gone to bed with his heart full, but in the quiet darkness, he felt doubts creep in.

Even if his gift had arrived in time for Christmas, would it be enough? Could she ever be happy living out here in the wilderness? Living with one such as him?

If Eleanora wanted parties and company and fancy things… he would never be able to live up to her expectations.

He needed to work this out. He did his best thinking in the barn. He would never own up to it, but he often talked things over with the milk cow.

He started to slip from the bed, but Eleanora’s soft hand at his shoulder gave him pause.

“It’s early.”

“I need to see to the animals.”

He heard the sleepy catch in her breath. “Can they wait? It’s terribly dark out.” Was she worried about him?

If the storm kept up the blinding snow, it wouldn’t matter whether the sun rose or not. Visibility wouldn’t get any better.

“I won’t be long,” he said.

But she didn’t seem reassured. She stirred and sat up in the bed as he pulled on his clothes over his long underwear and slid into his boots.

“Joseph, please—” She cut herself off from saying more.

Her uncertainty twisted his insides into a knot. What did she want from him?

They hadn’t put back the furniture last night and he had to rearrange the table and chairs before he could get to the door.

As he shrugged into his coat, he glanced back to where she sat in the bed, her hair tousled and long down her back. She wasn’t looking at him.

“I’ll have the coffee on when you get back. And breakfast going. I meant to wash some laundry later, as well. I can start melting snow…” Her words were cool and his chest cinched tight.

“I don’t want you to do all that,” he said tightly.

Her eyes cut to him. “What do you want?” Her words were a whisper.

You. He wanted her to find happiness here, with him. He wanted to hold her forever. He wanted her to sing like she’d sung last night.

But it felt frightening to say any of that. No one in his childhood had wanted him. AnnaJane was his only friend. He didn’t know how to do this. Didn’t know how to make a wife happy.

She was staring at him and he didn’t know how to answer her.

“Joseph, I can’t keep going on like this.”

His heart plummeted. “Please,” he squeezed out between lips that felt like ice. “I can—” He didn’t know what he could do. He’d only ever been Joseph. The boy who couldn’t sit still. The man who had a cow for a best friend.

“I need you to talk to me. Open up to me.”

He flinched as if she’d struck him. “What?”

“You don’t share yourself with me. I want to know—know about your childhood. Your dreams. What hurts you. E-everything.”

Her eyes begged for understanding but his insides felt like she’d flayed his flesh from bone. She couldn’t want to know all the ugliness he’d worked so hard to keep hidden from her.

“I can’t—I have to see to the animals.”

He was too afraid to glance behind himself as he pushed out into the arctic wind. The stinging snow pelted the exposed skin of his face and made his eyes water. He was breathless with the cold. Or maybe it was what she’d asked of him.

What she wanted was impossible. He’d run away from the orphanage and left behind the little boy that no one wanted. He didn’t like to talk about those days—he didn’t even like to think about those days. They were over and done with.

He was a man now, one who knew the land and worked it and—

And he was afraid that if she knew the real him, the man who’d made a life for himself apart, she wouldn’t want him.

He’d been so tired of being lonely that he’d broken and got himself a wife. He hadn’t expected this. That she would need this emotional intimacy from him.

He didn’t know whether he could give it.

Although Joseph had said not to cook breakfast or make coffee, Eleanora did it anyway. She had to do something with the nervous energy coursing through her.

Eleanora had eggs and bacon steaming on the table and his coffee was hot when he stamped his way through the door.

She couldn’t hold his gaze as he took off his hat. Would he be angry that she’d disobeyed him? She clasped her hands in front of her, trying to stem the anxious feelings that made her fingers tremble. Joseph had never once hit her. But neither had Dorian. Not until they’d been this close to the wedding.

She heard the noise of him shrugging out of his coat. There was a deep sigh and she imagined him standing beside the table looking down at his breakfast.

She had been courageous enough to leave Boston. To leave the life that her father had wanted for her, a life that would’ve suffocated her until she was a shadow of herself.

Did she want to be suffocated in her Colorado home?

Was she the courageous Eleanora or not?

She turned to face him, the table between them. His eyes were downcast. He was standing with one hand resting on the tabletop.

She saw the redness of his knuckles, the chapped skin that showed how hard he worked. Would that same hand strike her?

She raised her chin, though she couldn’t quite contain its tremble.

He finally looked up. His eyes were shuttered and unreadable.

Her stomach twisted. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Something shifted behind his eyes. “I don’t think I can eat.”

So he was upset.

She pressed her clasped hands into her stomach. “I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

He sliced his hand through the air and she couldn’t help the involuntary gasp that slipped through her lips.

For a moment, his indifferent mask slipped and she saw something dark in his eyes. He swallowed hard and it was gone. “I hate that—that you think I would hurt you.”

“I don’t think that,” she said quickly. She hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat something?”

He shook his head slowly. “I can’t bear it. Not if I’m going to get through this.” He picked up the plate and quickly turned to put it on the stove but not before she saw the tremble of his hand. When he spoke, it was to the wall. “I don’t remember my parents. I was raised in an orphanage. I wasn’t—wasn’t an easy child and—”

His words stuttered to a stop. He drew a deep breath. “I don’t like thinking about that time. I left as soon as I was able to take care of myself.”

She couldn’t stop herself from going to him. She touched his arm and he half-turned to her, his eyes burning.

“Joseph, you don’t have to—”

“I can’t—”

They spoke at the same time and her heart was pounding at his vulnerability and his nearness. He reached for her and she went into his arms easily. She felt the tremors as they moved through his body. He held her waist loosely. She clung to him. One hand at his shoulder and one at the back of his neck.

“You don’t need to say anything more,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I pushed. I wanted…” She let her words trail off and shook her head, her cheek brushing against his neck.

Silence fell between them. There was only the roar of the storm and the fall of a log in the fire.

“I would give you everything you want,” he said with some hesitation in his voice. “To keep you from leaving.”

At this, she felt a deep need to look into his face. She pushed gently against his chest and he was quick to release her. “Why would I leave?”

His face was flushed with shame. He looked as if he didn’t want to speak.

She waited expectantly.

Finally, he said, “Sometimes at the orphanage, people would come… shopping,” he choked on the word, “for children. They would choose the adorable little girls or the well-behaved boys.” He drew a deep breath and somehow she knew what he was going to say. “I was never chosen.”

He didn’t look at her. His head hung with shame.

“I choose you,” she said quietly. “I chose you the day we married and I choose you now.”

His head came up, his eyes full of hope. “But… I make you nervous. All the cleaning.” He gestured around them.

Her face grew hot with a blush. “I may have tried to prove my worth. If you need me to maintain your household…” Then he would need her to stay.

Something changed inside him. Some fine tension left his shoulders. “You want to stay,” he said with some wonder.

She nodded.

“But… you like fancy things. Your dresses…”

“Are all I have. I can sew something more practical.”

“The fancy party you told me about last night.”

She shook her head. “Dancing with you last night was exactly what I needed. When I told you that story, I was remembering my mother. Not the fancy party. I think she would have liked you.”

His eyes lit up, and he still appeared hopeful, but he also wore his caution like a shield. As if he couldn’t quite believe that she would want someone like him.

She’d asked him to reveal himself to her without giving anything of herself first. Maybe that made her a selfish creature. Or maybe it just made her human. She was as new to marriage as he was.

But he’d given her what she asked for—at least a little bit—and he deserved to know this.

“What you have given me today is the very best gift. I wanted to know more about the man I am falling in love with.”

Now his expression shone with fierce joy. “You love me?”

She nodded, biting her lip. Her courage deserted her.

But he reached for her again, folding her into his arms. “I love you,” he whispered fiercely.

Joy and surprise flowed through her. He’d hidden his emotions well. Now she guessed maybe that was to protect himself.

“I never thought—” he started, but she stopped his words with a kiss. He responded eagerly, his lips soft and firm against hers. His hand cupped her jaw and she had never felt so precious.

They snuggled beneath the blanket, whispering to each other for hours. She told him everything. About Dorian and how Papa had disregarded her fears. Joseph told her about living on his own at fourteen and how frightened he’d been in the beginning. How he’d found his way to Colorado and fought for this land. When he hesitated to tell her more about his childhood, she soothed him. He’d given her a gift today. The gift of himself. And it was enough. They had years ahead to learn everything about each other. For now, these moments tucked in together against the storm were enough.

And later, as she pulled together the noon meal, she snuck glances at him. Each time, she found him watching her with amazement and love in his expression.

He’d stolen a kiss as he’d come to the table.

And after the meal, they’d cleaned up together. She still wanted to serve him, to be the help he needed. But she didn’t feel quite so anxious about proving herself.

Late that night, they were already in bed when the raging winds finally died. The storm had passed.

“I’m sorry your gift didn’t arrive in time for Christmas,” he said softly into the darkness.

She held him close. “You are the only gift I need. You and our little one.”

“A baby?” His voice was ragged.

“Mmhmm. He or she will be here next summer.”

They both shed a few grateful tears. That they’d found each other. That God had allowed this love to bloom between them. And soon, they would share their love with a child.

He kissed her. And maybe his voice shook slightly as he said, “Merry Christmas.”

But she would never tell a soul.