The fire started three weeks later.
Martha woke to screaming horses.
She sat upright.
Orange light flashed through the bedroom window.
For one confused second she thought sunrise had come early.
Then she smelled smoke.
“Colum!”
He was awake instantly.
They ran outside.
The workshop roof was burning.
Flames climbed the dry shingles.
Ben Carter stood near the well shouting.
“Bucket line!”
Martha raced for the pump.
Workers came from the small bunkhouse.
Buckets passed hand to hand.
Colum dragged tools away from the wall despite Martha yelling at him not to enter.
“Get out!”
“Orders!”
“Forget the orders!”
He emerged carrying a finished cradle beneath one arm.
Smoke followed him.
Martha wanted to kill him.
Instead she threw water onto the flames.
For nearly an hour, they fought.
By dawn the workshop still stood.
Barely.
Half the roof was gone.
A wall had burned through.
Six finished chairs were destroyed.
Two thousand board-feet of seasoned lumber were blackened.
Colum stood in the wreckage.
Martha touched a scorched beam.
“Lantern?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
He crouched painfully.
Then pointed.
The ground beneath the rear wall was dark.
“Kerosene.”
Martha’s stomach tightened.
“Accident?”
“No.”
“Amos.”
Colum did not answer.
They had no proof.
Sheriff Talbot came that afternoon.
He walked through the wreckage.
“Could’ve been anybody.”
“Anybody with kerosene,” Colum said.
“Half the county owns kerosene.”
“Amos threatened us.”
“Threatened?”
“Said we’d regret refusing his timber offer.”
Talbot sighed.
“That’s not much.”
Martha studied him.
“You’re afraid of him.”
The sheriff frowned.
“Watch yourself.”
“Am I wrong?”
“Martha—”
“Amos owns half the businesses in town. His cousin sits on the county board. His friend runs the bank.”
Talbot adjusted his belt.
“You’re making accusations.”
“I’m describing the town.”
He left without arresting anyone.
Colum watched him go.
“We rebuild.”
Martha looked at the blackened shop.
“Again?”
“Again.”
And they did.
Oak Ridge expected them to retreat.
Instead the workers arrived the next morning with hammers.
Then something Martha did not expect happened.
Customers came too.
Ezra Pike arrived with a wagon of lumber.
“I had extra pine.”
Martha stared.
“You charging?”
“Not today.”
Mrs. Turner brought food.
The schoolteacher brought nails.
Reverend Wilkes brought six men from the church.
By afternoon, twenty-three people stood on Martha’s property.
Martha looked at Colum.
“Are we in the right town?”
“Unclear.”
He smiled.
The rebuilding took nine days.
During those days, the wall between Martha and Oak Ridge began to crack.
Not disappear.
Some prejudices were too old.
Some people remained cruel.
But others had watched a woman they underestimated survive drought, widowhood, debt and humiliation.
They had watched the broken mountain man walk again.
They had watched both create jobs for families that needed them.
Mockery became respect almost against the town’s will.
That frightened Amos more than anything.
In July, railway representatives arrived.
Not Amos.
Actual representatives from the Kansas Pacific extension survey.
They needed furniture for a field office and timber for bridges.
Colum negotiated directly.
The contract was worth twelve hundred dollars.
Martha nearly dropped the pen when she saw the figure.
After the men left, she looked at Colum.
“We’re rich.”
“No.”
“Twelve hundred dollars.”
“We have wages, equipment, lumber costs—”
“Don’t ruin this.”
He smiled.
“We’re temporarily less poor.”
“I prefer rich.”
“Fine. Rich until Monday.”
They celebrated with peach pie.
But Amos’s desperation grew.
He had borrowed heavily, expecting to control the railway timber contract.
When it went to Martha and Colum instead, creditors began calling his notes.
In August, exactly one year after Amos dumped Colum in Martha’s yard, he came again.
This time on foot.
Martha found him at the edge of the radish patch.
The same patch.
“You planning another present?” she asked.
He looked older.
“What did you tell the railway men?”
“The truth.”
“You told them I cheated suppliers.”
“They asked whether I trusted you.”
“And?”
“I said no.”
His fists tightened.
“You ruined me.”
Martha almost laughed.
“You came to my farm a year ago and dropped an injured man into the dirt because you thought humiliating us would entertain you.”
“That has nothing to do with business.”
“It tells me everything about how you conduct business.”
“You think you won?”
“This isn’t a game.”
“It always was.”
“No, Amos. That’s where you went wrong.”
He stared at her.
Martha continued.
“You thought every person weaker than you existed for your amusement.”
Colum appeared in the workshop doorway.
Amos saw him.
“You turned her against family.”
Colum walked slowly toward them.
“I didn’t have to.”
“You took Samuel’s place.”
Colum stopped.
Martha stepped forward.
“Nobody takes Samuel’s place.”
Amos looked at her.
“I loved my husband.”
She glanced at Colum.
“And loving someone who died doesn’t forbid you from loving someone still here.”
Colum’s expression changed.
She had not said those words before.
Not aloud.
Amos heard them too.
His face twisted.
“Pathetic.”
Martha shrugged.
“Maybe.”
She reached for Colum’s hand.
“But we’re happy.”
That was the one thing Amos could not tolerate.
He left.
Two nights later, someone cut the north pasture fence.
Twenty-eight cattle wandered into a ravine.
Martha and the workers recovered twenty-seven.
One broke a leg and had to be put down.
A week later, sugar appeared inside their sawmill bearings, nearly destroying the mechanism.
Then a railway shipment disappeared.
This time Colum set a trap.
He marked every crate with a hidden symbol beneath the hinges.
Three days later, Sheriff Talbot discovered two stolen crates in a shed owned by Amos.
Amos claimed someone planted them.
Then Tommy Webb stepped forward.
The boy had seen Amos’s hired man driving a wagon near the workshop after midnight.
For the first time, the sheriff had enough.
Amos was arrested for theft and sabotage.
He made bail the next morning.
That evening, Martha sat on the porch beside Colum.
“You think he’ll stop?”
“No.”
“Neither do I.”
Colum looked toward the road.
“I want you staying close to the house.”
Martha laughed.
“No.”
“Martha.”
“Do you remember how we met?”
“Yes.”
“Then you should know better than to order me around.”
“This is different.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you.”
The words came out so simply that neither could pretend they had not been said.
Martha’s smile disappeared.
Colum looked almost annoyed with himself.
“Well.”
“Well,” she whispered.
“I had a better way planned.”
“I’m sure.”
“Possibly involving flowers.”
“You don’t own flowers.”
“I would’ve acquired some.”
Martha turned toward him.
“I love you too.”
His shoulders relaxed.
She smiled.
“Though I’m still not staying inside.”
“I assumed.”
Two days later, Colum asked Martha to marry him.
He did it in the workshop.
No flowers.
No speech.
He was fitting a table leg when he said, “You want to make this legal?”
Martha blinked.
“The table?”
“Us.”
She stared.
“That is your proposal?”
“I warned you I’d been alone eleven years.”
Martha laughed so hard she had to sit down.
Colum waited patiently.
Finally she wiped her eyes.
“Try again.”
He sighed.
Then lowered himself carefully onto one knee.
The damaged leg protested.
Martha immediately became alarmed.
“You’ll never get up.”
“Quiet.”
He took her hand.
“Martha Bell, you are the most stubborn, aggravating, capable woman I have ever met.”
“This isn’t improving.”
“You saved my life without ever making me feel like I owed it to you.”
Now she stopped joking.
“You gave me work when I needed purpose, anger when I needed strength and a home when I believed I’d never have one again.”
Martha’s eyes filled.
“I don’t know how many years my legs will keep working.”
His voice trembled slightly.
“I don’t know whether this farm will survive every winter. I don’t know what trouble is coming.”
He squeezed her hand.
“But I know where I want to face it.”
Martha whispered, “Where?”
“Beside you.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Yes.”
Colum smiled.
“Good.”
“Now get up.”
“I’m trying.”
She laughed through her tears and hauled him upright.
Their wedding was set for October.
But Amos Higgins had one final act of cruelty left.
And this one nearly killed them both.