Naya released his sleeve, though her fingers lingered for a moment against the rough fabric. Calder saw the gesture but did not mistake it for a request to hold her. He returned his attention to the door.
“Stay where you can reach the back exit,” he told her. “If anything happens, don't wait for me to repeat myself.”
She nodded, but instead of retreating to the pantry, she moved to the far side of the table, where she could see the entrance without standing directly in front of it.
The knocking stopped.
For several seconds, there was only wind.
Then Harlan spoke again, his voice lower and more deliberate.
“Calder, you don't understand what you're involved in. This is a matter of business. The woman was taken under an agreement, and you're interfering with a lawful arrangement.”
Calder's reply was flat. “You can show me your papers through the window.”
A pause followed.
Then Harlan said, “Open the door.”
“No.”
“Don't make me force it.”
“Then you'll have to explain the damage to the sheriff.”
Naya watched Calder carefully. His face remained calm, but his shoulders were tense, and the hand resting near the rifle had tightened into a fist. She knew that he was afraid, though he showed none of the panic that filled her own chest.
Harlan gave a short, contemptuous laugh.
“The sheriff knows nothing about this. Voss has already spoken to him.”
“Then I expect the sheriff will be pleased to hear that you've admitted threatening a cabin in the middle of a storm.”
The silence that followed was different.
Naya saw Calder's eyes flick briefly toward the window. Beyond the frost-coated glass, a shadow moved near the porch railing. Another shape appeared farther down the path, partially obscured by falling snow.
There were at least two men outside.
Calder lowered his voice. “Naya, how many were with Harlan when they took you?”
“Four. Maybe five.”
“Did you recognize the others?”
“One was called Pike. Another had a red scarf. I don't know the names of the rest.”
“Would you recognize them if you saw them?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Remember their faces. Remember what they said. You may need to tell someone later.”
She stared at him. “You think they'll let me speak?”
“They'll have to.”
The certainty in his voice made her want to believe him, but fear had spent weeks teaching her not to trust words alone. She looked at the door, imagining Harlan on the other side, smiling beneath his hat as he had done when he first approached her.
She remembered the wagon.
She remembered the ropes.
She remembered the way the men had spoken about her as though she were a parcel to be delivered.
And she remembered Calder finding her after the camp had been abandoned, kneeling in the snow several feet away so that she would not mistake his approach for another attack.