Because somewhere far beyond the mountains, her father had learned that the daughter he believed he could discard was now preparing to challenge him.
And he had no intention of surrendering the inheritance quietly.
The confrontation came in early summer.
The woman traveled to the territorial courthouse with the mountain man and her attorney.
She wore a new brown dress.
Comfortable.
Properly fitted.
Without the painful whalebone corset.
Her hair was arranged neatly.
Her hands trembled.
But her shoulders were straight.
For the first time, she was entering a room where her father would be forced to listen.
He stood near the front.
Older than she remembered.
His dark suit was expensive.
His expression impatient.
Beside him stood her aunt.
The same woman who tightened the corset until she could barely breathe.
They looked toward her.
Her father's eyes widened.
Then narrowed.
"You."
The woman stopped.
For a moment, the old fear returned.
Her father's voice.
His authority.
The years of insults.
Then she felt the mountain man's hand beside hers.
He did not pull her forward.
Did not speak for her.
He simply stood there.
She took a breath.
"Hello, Father."
The older man looked toward the mountain man.
"What have you done to her?"
The mountain man's expression hardened.
"Nothing she didn't choose."
Her father scoffed.
"She belongs with her family."
The woman looked directly at him.
"I am with someone who treats me like family."
The words startled even her.
Her father's face reddened.
"Don't speak to me like that."
She felt her hands tremble.
But she did not lower her eyes.
"I will speak respectfully. I expect the same."
Her aunt gasped.
"How dare you?"
The woman turned.
"I remember what you told me before I left."
Her aunt stiffened.
"What?"
"That if my husband saw how large I truly was, he'd send me back."
The aunt looked uncomfortable.
The woman continued.
"You tied that corset so tightly I could barely breathe."
"Don't exaggerate."
The mountain man's eyes darkened.
But the woman raised one hand gently.
She wanted to speak for herself.
"You said I should be grateful anyone wanted me."
Her aunt looked away.
The woman nodded.
"I was grateful."
Her voice trembled.
"But not because someone purchased me."
She glanced toward the mountain man.
"Because someone finally treated me as a person."
Her father slammed one hand against the nearby table.
"Enough!"
Several people turned.
The attorney stepped forward.
"Sir, I suggest we keep this discussion professional."
The older man glared.
Then pointed toward his daughter.
"She doesn't understand the papers she's signing."