“I'm not leaving without her.”
“Then you'll be leaving in the custody of the sheriff.”
The man outside laughed harshly. “You think you can frighten me with a badge?”
“No,” Caleb said. “I think you should be afraid of what happens when your own words are written down and witnessed.”
A second voice spoke from farther away.
“Silas, perhaps we should go.”
Josie recognized the uncertainty in it. There was someone else outside, perhaps a hired driver or an associate who had not expected the confrontation to become so direct.
Rourke snapped at him. “Stay out of this.”
Caleb looked toward the window, then at Josie. “There are at least two of them.”
She nodded.
“Do you want me to send for the sheriff?”
“Yes.”
“I can ride to the nearest station when the weather allows. Until then, I'll keep the door secured.”
Rourke heard him. “You won't need the sheriff. This is a family matter.”
Josie's stomach twisted.
“I'm not your family,” she said.
“You were under my protection.”
“I never belonged to you.”
“After everything I've done—”
“You paid me for work. You did not buy me.”
The words came more firmly this time.
She felt something inside her shift as she spoke them. For years, she had allowed Rourke's version of events to crowd out her own. He had described her as helpless, ungrateful, and incapable of making decisions. He had repeated those claims so often that she had begun to wonder whether they were true.
Now, standing in a Wyoming cabin with the storm raging outside, she heard herself speak with a certainty she had not known she possessed.
“I am not coming with you, Silas. I don't want your protection. I don't want your money. I don't want another room in your house. I want you to leave.”
The porch fell silent.
Caleb did not move, but his presence beside her was steady as the stone wall behind the hearth.
Rourke finally spoke. “You cannot survive out here without a man to look after you.”
Josie looked toward the fire.
“I am learning.”
“You'll freeze. You'll starve. You'll come crawling back.”
“Perhaps I will struggle,” she replied. “But I would rather struggle as myself than live as your possession.”
The words seemed to surprise even her.
Rourke's response was a sharp curse.
Then came the sound of a horse stamping in the snow.
Caleb raised his voice. “You need to leave the porch now.”
“Make me.”
“I'd rather not.”
“You won't shoot me.”