“Because I spent so long believing I had to be useful every moment. Now I want to do things just because I want to.”
“That doesn't sound foolish to me.”
She let out a slow breath.
The fire had burned lower, and Caleb rose to add another log. Josie watched him cross the room, then looked toward the door. The latch was secure, the rifle rested on the table, and the storm still swept over the mountains. Yet the cabin no longer seemed like a place where she was trapped.
It was a place where she had been heard.
When Caleb returned, she lifted the edge of the furs.
“Will you sit here again?”
He sat beside her.
She leaned toward him, resting her head against his shoulder. This time, she did not ask whether she was allowed. She knew she could ask if she needed to, and that he would listen.
After a while, she whispered, “I think I want to kiss you someday.”
Caleb turned his head slightly. “I'd like that.”
“But I'm not ready tonight.”
“Then not tonight.”
She looked up at him, searching his face. “You really aren't angry?”
“No.”
“Even though I keep changing my mind?”
“Josie, changing your mind is allowed.”
She smiled faintly. “I wish someone had told me that years ago.”
“So do I.”
She settled against him again.
The storm continued to rage, but its fury seemed distant now. Josie's eyelids grew heavy, and her fingers loosened around his hand. Caleb remained beside her, quiet and patient, until her breathing slowed.
Just before sleep took her, she murmured, “Thank you for not making me afraid of you.”
Caleb looked down at her.
“You don't have to thank me for that,” he said softly.
But she was already drifting into sleep.
He stayed beside the bed, listening to the wind and watching the fire. He knew the morning would bring questions, perhaps a visit from the sheriff, and the possibility that Silas Rourke would return with more men or a new accusation. He knew the trouble would not vanish simply because Josie had spoken bravely at the door.
Yet he also knew that the woman sleeping beneath the wolf furs was no longer the frightened stranger who had arrived from Chicago with a small bag and a letter full of other people's decisions.
She had spoken for herself.
She had refused the man who claimed ownership of her.
And she had chosen, freely and without pressure, to rest beside her husband.
Caleb looked toward the window. Beyond the glass, snow swept across the clearing, hiding the tracks of the horses that had come to the cabin. The mountain would keep its secrets until morning, but the fire would last through the night.
He drew another log toward the hearth, adjusted the iron screen, and returned to his chair beside the bed.
Josie stirred in her sleep and reached toward the edge of the mattress.
Caleb offered his hand.
Her fingers closed around his, and she settled again.
He remained still, keeping watch while the storm passed over the Wyoming mountains.
For once, the cabin's silence did not feel like loneliness.
It felt like the beginning of a home.