A real laugh.
Deep.
Rough.
Beautiful.
The woman felt something in her chest loosen.
Outside, one of the bound robbers cursed.
The moment broke.
The mountain man handed her a coat.
“We go now.”
“Where?”
“Old ranger station.”
“Three miles east.”
“Marshal passes there weekly.”
“Weekly?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Hopefully tomorrow.”
She stared.
“Hopefully?”
“Frontier government.”
She groaned.
They left through the tunnel.
The storm had weakened, but snow still fell.
The mountain man led.
The woman followed.
Her body, often treated by others as weakness, became an advantage in the bitter cold.
She retained heat once moving.
She had strong legs from years of walking Baltimore streets rather than taking carriages she could not afford after her husband’s debts worsened.
The mountain man expected her to struggle.
She did.
But she did not stop.
After the first mile, he offered to slow.
She glared.
“Do I look like I need pity?”
“No.”
“Then stop offering it with such a handsome face.”
He nearly tripped.
The woman smiled.
“Was that deliberate?”
he asked.
“Yes.”
“Cruel.”
“You’ll survive.”
They continued.
At one steep incline, her boot slipped.
He caught her around the waist.
For a second his arms closed around her full body.
She froze.
Old shame flashed.
He would feel how large she was.
How soft.
How heavy.
How much woman filled his hands.
He steadied her.
Then immediately released.
No grunt.
No joke.
No expression of surprise.
She stared.
“What?”
he asked.
“Nothing.”
He began walking.
She remained still.
He turned.
“What?”
The woman swallowed.
“You didn’t react.”
“To what?”
Her cheeks heated.
“To me.”
He frowned.
“You slipped.”
“I know.”
“I caught you.”
“I know.”
“What reaction was I supposed to have?”
She looked away.
He understood slowly.
His expression softened.
“You thought I would think you were heavy.”
She gave him a bitter smile.
“I am heavy.”
“Yes.”
No flattery.
Then:
“So is a good horse.”
She stared.
His face changed in horror.
“That came out wrong.”
She began laughing.
He looked mortified.
She laughed harder.
“You compared me to a horse.”
“A good horse.”
“That does not help.”
“I know.”
She had to lean against a tree.
The mountain man stood helplessly while she laughed until tears came.
Finally:
“I meant strong.”
“I know.”
“Built to survive weather.”
She laughed again.
“Stop.”
He closed his mouth.
They resumed walking.
After several minutes she said:
“For what it’s worth, I like horses.”
He glanced sideways.