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"You aren't being bought. It's a gift from a husband to a wife. Or if that offends you, then consider it an advancement on your pay as the cook. I don't care, I want to buy you some clothes."
"I was never ashamed of where I came from, until now. It's just so embarrassing. Everyone probably thinks I married you for your money."
"Trudy," he knew this is where he had to be tactful, like George had said. "How can I make you understand. I may be rich, but I didn't do it all myself. My folks started this place, they worked their butts off so I would have something. My grandfather came to Texas a long time ago, he had little to his name, but a hope for a better life. I feel like maybe you feel the same, you want a better life. I can understand that. It isn't something to be ashamed of, you worked hard all your life, you took care of your dad, you struggled but you made it. Your hands," he turned them over to look at them, "aren't petal soft, are they?" He touched the sides of her hands where calluses had grown from hard work.
"I know, they are ugly." She tried to hide them.
He cupped her chin with a crooked finger and smiled into her tear-stained eyes. "Nothing about you is ugly. Calluses are a badge of hard work, honest work, never be ashamed of them."
"Most women don't have callused hands."
"This is true, it makes you an exception. It makes you special."
He looked at them now. "A man wants a woman who will stand beside him, help him if necessary. I don't want a woman I can sit in a glass box and look at."
He took her hands in his and touched the inside of her hand, slowly, feeling the rough edges again.
"No darlin', they aren't ugly. Nothing about you is ugly. Why you didn't have a hundred men busting down your door to marry you, I'll never understand. But you are married to me, Trudy, legally at least. And I want to provide for you. It's my duty to provide for you. It's my right as a husband. And be damned what others think or say. We know the truth."
"Then I'll owe you… "
"No, you won't. It's a gift, a wedding present. Please accept it graciously and don't make me feel bad for wanting to help you. Trudy," he turned her, so she was close and facing him. "You're my wife, it'll be expected of me to take care of you. Now, let's go into town and you can find some clothes you like."
"But supper—"
"Looks like everything is done except the meat, we'll get Chico to put a brisket on the fire outside. Will you do this for me?" he asked staring down into her tear-stained face.
Her head was bowed, she couldn't look him in the eye but now she felt she had to. "One question?"
"Alright, what is it?"
"Are you ashamed of me?" she asked softly. "Is that why you want to buy the dresses? So, I won't embarrass you?"
"To tell the truth I hadn't even noticed your dress, I was too busy looking at you. I could never be ashamed of someone who has worked hard all their life." He smiled. "I suppose I have a bit of a selfish reason to want to buy you clothes. I don't want others thinking I can't provide for my wife. That's a fact. What would you think if you saw a rich man and his wife had no clothes?"
"I see your point. I do. But it makes me indebted to you."
He sighed heavily. "Trudy, the fact is, I'd kind of like to show you off a little. I'm proud of where you came from, you like me, work hard. I appreciate that. It is the one thing I didn't like about Priscilla, she came from wealthy parents, had everything given to her, she doesn't do for herself. And out here, there are times we all have to do for ourselves. I feel like you would know how, instinctively. You are a survivor."
"If what you say is the truth, then why were you marrying a lady with a pedigree, with maids. I don't belong here. As much as you try to make it look like I do, I don't."
"Maybe a week ago, you didn't." He turned away. "Maybe a week ago, it's what
I wanted, or thought I wanted. A woman with a pedigree, and maids. Just to assure me she was of good stock. That was my thinking. To assure me she wasn't interested in my money. But I've learned a few things since then. In such a short time." He turned to look at her. "You are my wife. And I'm taking my wife to town and buying her lots of clothes so I can show her off."
"Show me off?" she asked.
"Don't you know how beautiful you are? Your hair is magnificent, so long and lustrous, you have a nice figure, everything is in the right place, what I've seen of it, and those oh so blue eyes, flash with anger, flash with laughter, and catch a fire when I kiss you. And don't try to argue that, it's a fact."
She tried to ignore the last statement.
She folded her lips for a moment, as though making some great effort. "Then… I'll pay you back," she insisted.
"You already have, by cooking for the boys. They all love you and your cooking. Your cooking isn't something I would have expected from anyone. For you to do it, means a lot to me and the boys. Now it's my turn to pay you back for the work you do around here. I will give you a cook's salary if you like."
"I don't feel right about this." She told him. "If you're going to buy me dresses, then I don't need a salary."
"I've got plenty of money Trudy, and only one wife to spend it on." He grinned. "Let me enjoy it, will you?"
