His long hair had begun drying into loose waves.
The scars across his shoulders caught the firelight.
And she realized she was no longer looking backward.
She was beginning to imagine a future.
That realization frightened her.
She had become accustomed to controlling the boundaries of her life.
Her routines protected her.
The cabin was organized around what she could manage.
Her work gave her independence.
Her solitude meant nobody could leave unless she invited them close enough to matter.
Now the rancher stood beside her washbasin, humming quietly while he cleaned two bowls.
It was such an ordinary sight.
And it made her heart ache.
When he finished, he turned toward her.
“Where do you want these?”
She pointed toward a lower shelf.
He placed them there.
Then he looked around.
“Anything else need doing?”
She smiled.
“Must you always be working?”
He considered the question.
“Yes.”
She laughed.
He smiled.
Then she pointed toward the chair beside the fire.
“Sit.”
He looked at it.
“That's your chair.”
“There's room on the bench.”
He glanced toward the broad wooden bench near the hearth.
It had been built with heavy supporting timbers.
He sat carefully.
The woman moved closer, using the rail beside her chair to steady herself.
They remained separated by a small table holding the old leather glove.
For several minutes, they watched the fire.
Then the rancher looked toward the glove.
“Can I keep it?”
She smiled.
“It was yours.”
He picked it up.
The leather was cracked.
The stitches had faded.
But the little triangular patch remained.
He turned it over.
Then he looked toward her.
“Reckon I owe you a new one.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“You're going to replace the proof that brought you back to me?”
He smiled.
“Maybe not.”
He placed the glove beside him.
Then he asked whether she remembered anything else from those nine days.
She thought for a moment.
“You hated being fed broth.”
He laughed.
“That sounds right.”
“You kept demanding bacon.”
He smiled.
“Definitely me.”
“And once you told me you were going to wrestle a bear.”
He stared.
She laughed.
“I told you the bear would probably win.”
He shook his head.
“Cruel woman.”
She smiled.
“You survived.”
He looked toward her.
His expression softened.
“Thanks to you.”
She lowered her eyes.
Then he asked something neither had expected.
“Did you ever wish you'd let me die?”
Her head snapped toward him.
“What?”
He looked down.
“I was a stranger. You were alone. Caring for me must've been terribly hard.”