Clara whispered:
“What if he comes here?”
“Then I stand at my door.”
“What if he says I belong to him?”
Ethan’s expression changed.
“No person belongs to another.”
“What if law says—”
“I didn’t say law.”
She looked at him.
Ethan continued:
“Whatever paper says, you choose.”
“If you choose him, I let you go.”
Clara almost recoiled.
“I never would.”
“Then I don't worry about that part.”
The simplicity of it broke something in her.
Clara moved forward and pressed her forehead against his shoulder.
Ethan froze.
Then slowly put his arms around her.
They remained that way until coffee went cold.
Jonah planned to ride to Red Hollow and send telegrams east.
Ethan insisted Clara remain at cabin.
She objected.
Then stopped.
Not because Ethan ordered.
Because she genuinely did not want to enter town while her mind still felt fractured.
Before leaving, Jonah gave Ethan a warning.
“If Gideon is alive, he has money somewhere.”
“Connections.”
“Possibly hired men.”
Ethan replied:
“Everyone dies cold out here.”
Jonah stared.
Ethan added:
“That wasn’t a threat.”
“Montana.”
Jonah almost smiled.
After he left, Ethan spent morning splitting wood.
Too much wood.
Clara watched from porch.
At noon she finally walked out.
“You’re angry.”
“Yes.”
“At me?”
“No.”
“Then stop murdering the woodpile.”
Ethan buried ax into stump.
Clara stepped closer.
“What scares you?”
He looked surprised.
“You.”
She almost smiled.
“Not physically.”
“No.”
“Losing you.”
The answer came so quickly it silenced her.
Ethan wiped his hands.
“We’ve known each other four days.”
“I know.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Probably.”
Clara looked toward mountains.
“I’m scared too.”
“Of Gideon?”
“Yes.”
“Of you?”
She turned.
“Not the way I expected.”
He waited.
“I’m afraid I’ll start needing this.”
“What?”
“The way you speak to me.”
“Ask instead of decide.”
“Wait instead of take.”
She swallowed.
“What happens if I get used to it and lose it?”
Ethan looked at her for a long moment.
“Then getting used to cruelty because you’re afraid kindness might leave seems like a poor bargain.”
Clara laughed softly.
“You think about things for a man who barely talks.”
“I save words.”
“Winter.”
“Limited supplies.”
She smiled.
Then crossed the distance.
Placed both hands against his chest.
“May I kiss you?”
Ethan’s face changed.
“Yes.”
Clara kissed him.
Not tentative.
She had spent years afraid of men leaning toward her.
There was strange power in choosing the direction herself.
Ethan’s hands remained at his sides until Clara took one and placed it carefully at her waist.
He inhaled sharply.
She smiled against his mouth.
“You’re allowed.”
He whispered:
“I know.”
“You don't look like it.”
“I’m learning.”
“So am I.”
The kiss deepened.
Then Bear barked.