His expression tightened. “Then I will accept that decision and never pressure you to stay. What I feel doesn't give me the right to decide for both of us.”
She felt tears rise. “That's the first thing you've said in days that makes me believe we might find our way through this.”
He lowered his head. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
The months that followed were slower than the danger that had brought them together. Records had to be verified. Witnesses gave conflicting accounts. The forged claims were examined by court officials who cared more for measurements and testimony than for the reputations of wealthy investors.
The two women worked together whenever the court needed the accounts explained. The former clerk remembered who had signed each page; the woman in blue could show precisely where the numbers stopped making sense. Their friendship did not arrive suddenly, and neither pretended they had nothing to overcome. But each treated the other's freedom as worth protecting.
At last, the court rejected the fraudulent claims that had seized the creek properties. The former supervisor and several associates faced further proceedings over false records and the fire. The mountain man's original accusation was withdrawn after the surviving witness testified and the evidence against him collapsed. His old surname was restored to the public record without the stain of murder, though he chose to keep the name by which his mountain neighbors knew him.
The harder matter was his first marriage. His former wife had survived; no honest person could now pretend otherwise. With legal counsel, they began the process of dissolving their union, and both made clear that they wished to live separately. Only after the necessary proceedings ended could he and the woman in blue consider making new marriage vows without uncertainty.
He never asked her to treat that interval as a punishment. She spent some of it in the settlement, working for the widow whose boardinghouse had reopened. Her wages were hers. She maintained her own accounts, purchased materials for a small sewing business, and discovered that she could miss the mountain man terribly without losing herself.
He came to town when she invited him. Sometimes they walked together. Sometimes they argued about what should have been said months earlier. He listened when she was angry, and he answered questions even when the answers embarrassed him.
One spring evening, they stood outside the boardinghouse while the mountains glowed pink beneath the setting sun.