"Did you think I would leave?"
His silence answered.
The woman felt tears rise.
She nodded slowly.
"So you were afraid."
He looked down.
"Yes."
She stared at him.
For months, she had felt ashamed because he wouldn't kiss her.
She had wondered whether her size made him uncomfortable.
All the while, he had been protecting a wound that had nothing to do with her body.
But that did not make the silence harmless.
She took a breath.
"I wish you'd trusted me."
His eyes filled.
"So do I."
For a moment, she wanted to stand and walk away.
Not because she stopped loving him.
Because she needed space to understand what this meant.
Then the wounded visitor suddenly lifted his head.
"Listen."
Everyone froze.
Outside, beneath the wind, came another sound.
Hoofbeats.
The mountain man rose immediately.
He moved toward the window.
Lifted the curtain.
Then looked back.
"Two riders."
The stranger closed his eyes.
"They found me."
The woman followed her husband's gaze.
Beyond the trees, two dark figures were approaching through the snow.
They moved slowly, checking the trail.
Neither carried the supplies or clothing of an ordinary traveler caught in the storm.
One had a rifle across his saddle.
The other wore a dark scarf pulled high around his face.
The mountain man lowered the curtain.
"Did they see the cabin?"
The stranger shook his head.
"I don't know."
The woman looked toward the door.
Then toward the heavy furniture.
"Can they reach the porch?"
Her husband nodded.
"Eventually."
She took a slow breath.
"Then we need to decide what we're going to do before they arrive."
The mountain man looked at her.
For one brief instant, gratitude crossed his face.
Then he began giving instructions.
He checked the rifle.
Closed the shutters.
Moved the wounded visitor farther from the windows.
Then crossed toward the back of the cabin.
A narrow passage led to the storage room and rear porch.
The woman watched him.
"What are you looking for?"
"Another exit."
She frowned.
"You expect us to run?"
"No."
He glanced toward her.
"But I want you to have a choice."
The words hurt.
Not because they were unkind.
Because he had remembered what she needed only after withholding something that might change their entire marriage.
She nodded.
Then moved toward the kitchen.
The visitor watched her.
"Ma'am?"
She turned.
He gestured toward the cupboards.