The events of the previous night played on repeat inside Maggie's head. She had left the ball after her conversation with Willamina and as soon as she arrived home, her father could tell there was something wrong, but she wouldn't tell him. She may have been close with her father, but the two rarely had deep or emotional conversations, especially when it came to her love life, which was practically nonexistent.

She released a huff as she plopped down in her stool beside the cow and placed the metal bucket underneath it. She milked the cow, but was distracted the entire time, wondering why boys were so infuriating.

It was true that she cared for Vincent, but she kept her opinion that it could never work between them. Their lives were too different and she could never make him happy. He deserved a proper lady- someone like Evangeline.

Evangeline was what was expected in a wife. She was beautiful, good mannered, proper, and could even speak French.

Maggie would never be a girl like that. She would much rather be outside in the dirt than trapped in a corset and running a manor.

The cow stomped her foot. Maggie had been so lost in her thoughts she hadn't noticed the cow's udder was now empty. She stood up, taking the bucket with her, and gently patted the animal. She carried the milk down into the cellar to be bottled until she could find someone to buy it.

The cellar was small and dark. The only light was provided by sunlight that flooded in through the door. There were many shelves, but they were sparse. A few cans of beans or fruit preserves was all they had. Her garden had not been as fruitful that year. The summer had been harsh.

It took her several minutes to empty the contents of the pail into the glass milk bottles. When she was done, she carefully stacked them on the shelf. The cellar stayed cool, keeping the milk fresh and ready for use. She walked back up the stairs, returning to the barn with the now empty pail.

Her stallion bobbed his head as she passed by and she lightly chuckled and brushed his nose. He had grown into a good horse. It had taken a lot of time and patience, but he was useful now and no longer so wild.

She put the bucket back into its proper place and opened the barn door, stepping out into the sunlight. She took a deep breath of the crisp fall air and closed her eyes. She allowed herself to empty her mind of all worries, and for a moment it was just her and the sound of the birds chirping and pigs feasting on their breakfast in the nearby pen.
The sound of hoofbeats joined the chorus.

Maggie opened her eyes, perplexed. Her gaze traveled in the direction of the sound. Topping the hill was a bay horse with a rider upon it.

Her entire body grew tense. Her father worked in a dangerous lumber mill. She wondered if it was someone from the city coming to announce that there had been an accident. That was something she feared every day when he left for work. She had heard horror stories of accidents at the mill.

The rider slowed the horse as they grew closer, and she quickly realized who it was.

"What are you doing here?" She asked when the rider stopped the horse a few feet in front of her. She lifted up her hand and squinted to shield her eyes from the sun.

Vincent swung his leg around and dismounted the horse. He took the reins and tied them to the nearby fence post. "I came to talk to you, Maggie," he said.

Her hand fell back to her side and she suddenly felt the urge to run. She wasn't good at heartfelt conversations. She watched as he took a few careful steps toward her.

"Maggie..." He started speaking, but hesitated. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I want you to give me a chance. I can make you happy."

Maggie felt a twinge of pain in her chest. Her blue eyes looked into his deep brown ones and she could tell he meant it. She had always loved his eyes. They reminded her of a deer. She was quiet for a moment. "I won't make you happy," she said finally.

His expression quickly turned to one of shock. "You already make me happy. I love being around you," he told her. He began to smile as he went on. "You make me laugh and you're so kind and strong."

She tried to ignore the tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. She blinked them away before they could spill. "You say that now, but in a few years you'll grow bored." She knew how it would work. While he was young and wild she seemed intriguing, but eventually he would mature and want something different.

She moved to walk back to the barn. "I have to feed the pigs," she stated.

Vincent reached out, gently catching her by the wrist. "I will never grow bored of you, Maggie. I want you. I care about you."

She looked down at her wrist which was encircled by his fingers. His skin was so pale compared to hers. Her own skin was rough and tan from years of working outside. She looked up, meeting his eyes once again. "I have nothing to give you. No money, no house, no dowry," she replied. "Your father would never allow it, and you know it."

"I don't care what my father thinks, you know that."

She pulled her arm from his grip. "Yes you do," she insisted, but she knew the second the words left her mouth that it was a lie. If he had cared about his father's opinion that much, he never would have befriended her in the first place.

She could see the hurt look that passed across his face. "You and I could never work," she said softly. "Our lives are too different. You would be miserable giving up your rich life for me and I would never be happy living a life of parties and running a plantation."

Vincent's expression suddenly turned very intense. He reached out and took her hands into his own. "I care about you. Money be damned. I would give anything to be with you." He dropped her hands, leaving her feeling empty. "I only wish you could see that," he said.

She watched as he turned and walked away from her. She wanted to call after him, but swallowed the words back. She tried to tell herself that this was for the best, but she had a hard time believing it.

He stopped in his tracks and turned around to face her again. His dark eyes were sad. "I love you, Margaret Olive Welch. And I swear one day I'll marry you." Without another word, he untied his horse, mounted, and rode off over the hill.

Maggie watched and struggled to hold back her tears. Wind blew strands of her black hair into her face and she brushed it away. It took her a moment to regain her composure and when she did, she went right back to work. It was the only thing she knew to do to keep her mind off of him.

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Word Count: 1246