“Thank God.”
Near dawn, they reached the abandoned ranger station.
It had one room.
No fireplace.
But a stove.
The mountain man lit it.
The woman sat beside him wrapped in blankets.
His forehead wound had stopped bleeding.
She cleaned it anyway.
He remained still while she pressed a damp cloth against the cut.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because I want to.”
The mountain man’s eyes lifted toward hers.
The words hung there.
Because I want to.
Choice.
Again.
The woman noticed.
So did he.
Her hand slowed against his forehead.
She whispered:
“You said the promise made you open the door.”
“Yes.”
“And if my father had never asked you?”
The mountain man looked at her.
“I still would’ve opened it.”
“How do you know?”
“You were half dead on my porch.”
She smiled faintly.
“That’s romantic.”
“I’m not good at romantic.”
“I noticed.”
He almost smiled.
She continued:
“But once you knew who I was?”
His expression became serious.
“That changed things.”
“How?”
He looked toward the stove.
“Because I remembered your father.”
“And?”
“Because I remembered what he said.”
“And?”
The mountain man hesitated.
She waited.
Finally:
“Because you were beautiful.”
Her hand stopped.
He continued before courage disappeared.
“Not in the way men say it when they want something.”
“I don’t know another way to explain it.”
The woman looked away.
“You’ve seen beautiful women.”
“Yes.”
“Thin women.”
“Yes.”
The answer hurt instinctively.
He noticed.
Then:
“I’ve seen mountains too.”
She looked back.
“What does that mean?”
“Means one mountain doesn’t become less beautiful because another has a different shape.”
She stared.
“That may be the strangest compliment I’ve ever received.”
“Was it bad?”
“No.”
Her eyes filled.
“That’s the problem.”
He looked alarmed.
“Why?”
“Because I’m starting to believe you.”
The mountain man went very still.
The woman lowered the cloth.
“I don’t know what happens after this.”
“Neither do I.”
“I may own land.”
“Yes.”
“I may own your spring.”
“Part of it.”
She raised an eyebrow.
He corrected:
“Possibly.”
“I may have six criminals hunting me.”
“Yes.”
“You filed a competing claim against my property.”
“Yes.”
“You are a terrible prospect for trust.”
“Yes.”
She almost smiled.
“And yet…”
He waited.
She touched his cheek.
This time deliberately.
“And yet I feel safer beside you than I did in my own marriage.”
His eyes closed briefly.
“That is not something I take lightly.”