“You okay?”
She realized he was asking because she had gone quiet.
“Yes.”
“Need me to put the shirt back?”
“No.”
She cleaned the wound.
His body was powerful.
But not invulnerable.
That mattered.
She had imagined strength as something that made men dangerous.
Here was strength injured.
Trusting her hands.
When she finished, he said:
“Thank you.”
“Stop thanking me.”
“Why?”
“It makes it sound like I’m a guest.”
He turned slightly.
The movement hurt.
He winced.
She scolded him.
“Stay still.”
He smiled.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She tied the bandage.
Then froze.
A guest.
Was that still what she thought she was?
That night, she lay awake.
Her door was open.
She had stopped latching it days earlier without noticing.
Across the cabin, the mountain man coughed in his sleep.
She got up.
Checked the fire.
Added wood.
Then stood outside his room.
He was awake.
“You need something?”
“No.”
“Then why are you staring at me?”
She almost laughed.
“I’m deciding something.”
He became alert.
“What?”
The bride walked inside.
Sat at the edge of his bed.
His entire body went still.
She looked toward him.
“Do you remember asking how long I planned to stay?”
“Yes.”
“I still don’t know.”
He nodded carefully.
“But…”
She looked down at her hands.
“I know I don’t want to leave tomorrow.”
Something softened in his face.
“That’s enough.”
She looked up.
“For you?”
“Yes.”
“For now.”
He smiled.
“For now.”
She stood.
He said:
“Wait.”
Her heart jumped.
He pointed toward the door.
“You left your shawl.”
She stared.
Then laughed.
He did too.
That was the night she first dreamed of kissing him.
She woke furious with herself.
By February, the passes opened enough for a wagon to reach Dry Creek.
The mountain man needed supplies.
The bride insisted on coming.
He tried to hide his concern.
She noticed.
“You don’t want me in town.”
“No.”
“Because you’re ashamed?”
His eyes widened.
“What?”
She instantly regretted asking.
He stepped closer.
“Never say that again.”
The force in his voice made her flinch.
He softened.
“Sorry.”
Then:
“I’m afraid they’ll hurt you.”
“With words?”
“Yes.”
“I have survived words.”
“I know.”
“Then we go.”
He nodded.
They rode together.
The town noticed them immediately.
Of course it did.
The mountain recluse had returned with the woman everyone assumed he had purchased.
And she looked different.
Not thinner.
That disappointed certain people.
Happier.
That offended others.