No Mail-Order Bride Lasted One Week with the Mountain Man… Until the Obese One Refused to Leave

Chapter 3

Elias barely lifted his head from sharpening his knife. “If I wanted it wrong, I’d cook it myself.”

That was the way of things for days—his bluntness crashing against her stubbornness like waves against stone. But Clara noticed things. She noticed how he always saved the largest portion of meat for her, even when he didn’t have to. She noticed how he stacked the firewood closer to the door so she wouldn’t have to walk far in the cold. She noticed how he checked the lock on the door three times every night before settling down to sleep.

The man was a fortress of silence, but his actions spoke in volumes.

One afternoon, Clara found herself outside splitting wood. She wasn’t graceful at it, but she was determined. Her arms ached. Sweat beaded on her brow despite the chill. But she brought the hatchet down again and again, each swing a little more desperate than the last.

Elias came striding from the trees with a fresh elk, heavy and massive, blood dripping from its flank. He stopped, watching her swing. “You’re going to dull the blade,” he said flatly.

Clara dropped the hatchet and spun on him. “I’m going to do the work, dull blade or not. Not all of us have biceps carved out of stone, mountain man.”

He blinked at her outburst. Most women had cried under his tone. She raised her voice instead.

Then she marched over, grabbed one end of the elk’s antlers, and said, “Well, don’t just stand there. Let’s drag this beast inside before the wolves sniff it.”

For a moment, Elias didn’t move. Then a sound left his chest—not quite a laugh, but something close. A low rumble of surprise.

Together, they hauled the elk to the butchering block. Elias worked the knife with quick precision, and Clara stood at his side, sleeves rolled high, ready to help. Blood spattered her apron, but she didn’t flinch. She salted the meat, packed it in crocks, and when the job was done, she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

“There,” she said breathlessly. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it? A man and his wife working together instead of barking orders.”

Elias glanced at her, those pale gray eyes narrowing. For the first time, there was no scorn in them. Only something unreadable.

That evening, the clash between them came to a head.

The wind had picked up, rattling the shutters. The stew bubbled thick in the pot, filling the cabin with the rich scent of elk meat and onions. Clara ladled a portion into a bowl and set it before Elias.

He tasted it. Then grunted, “Too much salt.”

That was it. The breaking point.

Clara snatched the bowl back, slammed it onto the table, and leaned forward until her face was inches from his.

“You listen to me, Elias Cutter. I don’t scare easy. I don’t cry easy. And I sure as heaven don’t cook for a man who thinks nitpicking is conversation. If you want to sit there and stew in silence, fine. But don’t you dare act like I came all this way just to be your cook and your punching bag.”

The fire cracked in the hearth, punctuating her words.

For a long moment, Elias didn’t move. His jaw worked. His eyes locked on hers.

Then, slowly, something shifted in his gaze. He leaned back, folded his massive arms, and said, “You’re the first one to raise her voice to me.”

Clara didn’t blink. “Then maybe you needed someone to.”

The silence that followed wasn’t the tense, heavy kind that had filled the cabin before. It was different. Charged, like the air before a storm.

Elias pushed the bowl back toward her. “It’s good,” he muttered. “I’ll eat it.”

Clara’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Damn right you will.”

Later that night, as she lay under the quilt, Clara thought about the clash. It hadn’t broken her. It had steadied her. For the first time, she felt like Elias had seen her—not just another bride passing through, but a woman who stood her ground.

And though he said nothing more before sleep, Elias lay awake on the bearskin rug, staring at the ceiling beams.

The others had run.

This one had fought.

And that, more than anything, unsettled the mountain man.