“What do you think you’re being, acting the way you have been?”
“I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Yes, you did. You wanted to make us uncomfortable. You wanted us to know you were upset. That was important to you. And you wanted me to ask.”
She wanted to add,It’s all so very childish,but she restrained herself. She didn’t want to punish and belittle him. She just wanted him to stop, and she still wanted to help him embrace the ways of men.
George frowned. He knew his position was indefensible. “I’m just worried about you.”
She took his hands in hers. “Talk to me, George. Don’t make me guess at your thoughts. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“It’s, well… everything, Mary. You’ve been through a lot.”
“Yes, I have. But I’m holding up.”
“You’re tough. No one knows that better than me. But you’ve been through a lot, and you’re making all these decisions on your own.”
“And you think I’m making mistakes?”
He shrugged.
“Talk to me, George. What mistakes am I making? Do you think I’m foolish for rebuilding?”
“What if I do?”
“Well, then, you’d better tell me why. You’re my brother, George. If you think I’m making a mistake, I want you to speak up.” Which, again, wasn’t exactly the truth, but she did prefer his speaking up to this intolerable pouting.
Besides, she knew her brother and understood that regardless of his feelings concerning the homestead, something else was bothering him, too, and that she wouldn’t uncover that until he’d had his say about rebuilding.
“Well, it’s an awful lot of work,” he said.
“You don’t have to do it,” she said. “You can go back to Pa’s farm. James will stay. And neighbors will help.”
“That’s not what I mean. You know I don’t mind work. But I stand by what I said. It’s a lot of work, no matter who does it. And all for what?”
“It’s my home.”
“It was your home. Cole’s dead, Mary.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“Now, you’re the one being childish, Mary. You know what I’m saying.”
“You’re saying I shouldn’t bother rebuilding since my life here is over.” In the silence following her words, they resonated with her more gravely than she would have anticipated.
She realized suddenly that this terrible thought had been knocking around in the back of her own mind, not as an opinion but as a doubt. Was her life over here? Was she being foolish?
She never would have guessed at the rush of near panic she felt in that moment.
Was George right? Was this all a foolish blunder? Was she living in denial? Was she ignoring what was to everyone else common sense?
“What will you do?” George asked. “Let’s say you build the house and the barn and you even manage to plant the crops and get some new stock. What will you do, Mary?”
“I will live my life,” she said defiantly.
“Alone?”
Suddenly, she felt like crying. But she wouldn’t do that, couldn’t do it, not now, not in front of George, especially not while discussing these things. If she cried now, it would weaken her and strengthen him, and she might concede and go back to Cañon City and never finish what she and Cole had started here.
