The lock groaned.
The mountain man turned.
“We’re out of time.”
He moved toward a large cedar chest.
Opened it.
The woman expected weapons again.
Inside were blankets, rope, dried food, and a small lantern.
He pulled out a thick pair of trousers and a wool coat.
“These will fit better than they look.”
Her face burned.
Even now.
Even with armed men outside.
The shame arrived automatically.
“They won’t.”
He looked toward her.
She gestured toward her body.
“I’m not exactly built like you.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“No.”
Despite herself, she gave him a wounded look.
Then he added:
“You’re shaped better.”
Her eyes widened.
The mountain man seemed to realize what he had said.
A flush climbed beneath his beard.
The woman stared.
He cleared his throat.
“The trousers have drawstrings.”
She almost smiled.
Outside:
“Last warning!”
The mountain man threw the coat over her shoulders.
It was enormous.
For once in her life, clothing hung loose around her.
She froze.
The simple sensation almost felt unreal.
Nothing pinching.
Nothing stretched.
Nothing reminding her she occupied too much space.
The mountain man noticed her expression.
“What?”
She shook her head.
“Nothing.”
His gaze softened.
“Boots.”
She obeyed.
The boots were also large.
She tightened them with strips of leather.
The mountain man extinguished one lantern.
Then another.
The fireplace remained.
The cabin’s interior changed from exposed refuge to defensive maze.
He lifted the trapdoor farther.
Steam surged upward.
The woman looked into the stone basin.
She had thought it was only a spring.
Now she saw a narrow ledge along one side.
Behind the steam, rough steps descended deeper.
“You built stairs?”
“My father did.”
“Where do they go?”
“To an old prospect tunnel.”
“Of course they do.”
This time he smiled openly.
The sound at the front door stopped.
That was worse.
The mountain man’s smile vanished.
“They’re moving around back.”
The woman’s breathing quickened.
He looked at her.
“If I tell you to go below, go.”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
“No?”
“I spent the last nine years having men tell me where to stand, what to sign, how to dress, what debts belonged to me, what parts of my own life I was allowed to understand.”
Her voice trembled, but she held his gaze.
“I am done obeying instructions without explanations.”
The mountain man stared.
Then nodded.
“Fair.”
Another man might have argued.
He did not.