For several moments, the only sounds were the fire and the storm.
Finally, she looked around the cabin.
"You live here alone?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
"Why?"
I leaned backward.
"Because I like the company."
She frowned.
"What company?"
I gestured toward the stove.
"The stove. Doesn't argue much."
Josephine laughed.
Then winced from exhaustion.
I smiled despite myself.
It was the first time I'd heard a woman laugh inside that cabin.
And something about it made the room feel warmer than the fire ever had.
The next morning, I woke in my chair with a stiff neck and an empty coffee cup in my hand.
Josephine was watching me.
Sunlight filtered weakly through the frosted window, and the storm had settled into a steady snowfall.
"Morning," I said.
She tilted her head.
"Do you always sleep sitting up?"
"Only when beautiful strangers steal my bed."
She blinked.
Then laughed.
"That was almost charming."
"Almost?"
"You'll need more practice."
I shook my head.
"Lord help me."
She smiled.
Then became serious.
"Is my horse all right?"
I nodded.
"Resting in the stable. She's tired, but I think she'll recover."
Josephine closed her eyes.
For a moment, her expression filled with relief.
Then she whispered, "Thank you."
I moved toward the stove.
"Don't thank me yet. Haven't tasted my cooking."
She watched as I prepared breakfast.
I had cornmeal, salted pork, dried apples, and enough coffee to survive a siege.
She asked whether I had eggs.
I told her the hens had gone on strike.
She laughed again.
By the time breakfast was ready, I'd learned three things about Josephine.
She was twenty-five.
She came from a settlement farther east.
And she'd been trying to reach the southern freight road that eventually connected with the routes toward Ouray.
But when I asked why she traveled alone through the mountains in January, her expression changed.
She looked toward the window.
Then answered softly.
"Because staying where I was had become dangerous."
I stopped moving.
For a moment, I considered asking more.
Then I saw the exhaustion in her face.
She wasn't ready.
So I placed breakfast beside her.
"Well, you're safe here for now."
She looked toward me.
"How long?"
I glanced at the snow piled against the door.
"Depends how long the mountains stay angry."
Josephine smiled faintly.
Then whispered.
"I think they might be angry for quite a while."
She was right.