"What are you doing?"
"Preparing."
"For what?"
She picked up the heavy iron kettle.
"Whatever happens next."
The stranger seemed unsure whether to laugh.
She didn't.
Outside, the hoofbeats stopped.
A man's voice shouted through the storm.
"Cabin!"
The mountain man looked toward the door.
Another shout followed.
"We're looking for a rider! Dark coat! Wounded arm!"
Nobody answered.
The voice grew louder.
"We know he's here!"
The woman glanced toward her husband.
He raised one finger to his lips.
The riders moved closer.
Snow crunched beneath boots.
A moment later, someone struck the door.
"Open up!"
The mountain man remained silent.
The man outside tried again.
"We have business with the rider!"
The wounded visitor whispered, "They'll kill me."
The woman looked toward him.
"Then keep quiet."
He nodded.
The rider outside suddenly laughed.
"We know who owns this cabin."
The mountain man's expression hardened.
The stranger continued.
"Come out under your real name, surveyor!"
The woman felt her heart tighten.
The men knew.
Not merely that the wounded rider was hiding here.
They knew the identity her husband had spent seven years concealing.
Then the outside voice became colder.
"You can bring the woman too. Our employer would like to meet the mountain wolf's new bride."
The woman looked toward her husband.
His face changed.
Not fear for himself.
Fear for her.
He moved toward the door.
She reached for his arm.
"Don't."
He stopped.
"They know you're here."
"So?"
His eyes widened slightly.
She continued.
"That doesn't mean you have to give them what they want."
He stared at her.
She lowered her voice.
"If you open that door alone, they can do whatever they please."
He looked toward the rifle.
Then back at her.
For a moment, she could almost see the younger man beneath the scar.
The surveyor who believed facts should matter.
The husband who had lost everything because powerful people decided otherwise.
He was preparing to solve the danger through sacrifice.
Again.
She tightened her grip.
"Think."
He swallowed.
Then nodded.
They moved quickly.
The cabin had a narrow side window overlooking the woodpile.
A thick supporting beam protected part of the entrance.
The mountain man positioned himself where he could observe the porch without standing directly before the door.
The woman moved the oil lantern away from the window.
Then pulled a heavy wool blanket across the bright opening to make the interior harder to see from outside.