She remembered the sound of him cursing as blood ran over his upper lip. She remembered running into the trees while gunfire cracked behind her.
Now he was standing less than twenty feet away.
Harlon's voice remained steady.
“You're far from the county road, Pike. Storm comes down the north ridge, you won't see your own horses by midnight.”
Gideon Pike laughed bitterly.
“Worried about me?”
“Not particularly.”
“Then open the door.”
“No.”
Another heavy blow rattled the frame.
Amily gripped the blanket.
For one terrible instant, she imagined the men breaking through, lifting the hatch, and dragging her out into the snow.
She had no weapon.
No proper clothing.
And no strength left for another escape.
Then Harlon spoke again.
“You tell Vale something for me.”
Pike snorted.
“What?”
“An old lie doesn't become a lawful deed just because he hires more men to repeat it.”
Silence followed.
Amily heard the wind screaming around the cabin.
Then Pike answered in a voice stripped of all amusement.
“You should have left the valley when your brother died.”
Something struck the wooden floor above Amily.
Not a boot.
Something heavier.
For the first time, Harlon's breathing became audible.
“You don't speak about my brother.”
Pike laughed.
“Then give us the book.”
“No.”
A gunshot exploded outside.
Amily screamed.
Wood splintered somewhere near the entrance, and a horse whinnied violently.
She crouched beneath the blanket, trembling.
Another gunshot followed, farther away.
Then Harlon's voice roared through the cabin.
“GET OFF MY LAND!”
There was a tremendous crash.
A man shouted.
Boots scraped across the porch.
And through the storm came Pike's furious voice.
“This isn't finished, Boone!”
Harlon answered something Amily couldn't hear.
Then came the sound of horses struggling through deep snow.
For several seconds, the cabin remained silent.
Amily waited.
One minute.
Then another.
The warmth of the spring no longer comforted her.
Her hands shook.
What if Harlon had been injured?
What if the men were waiting for him outside?
She climbed toward the hatch, still wrapped in the heavy blanket.
“Harlon?”
No answer.
She reached upward.
“Harlon!”
The hatch moved.
Amily recoiled.
Then the heavy wood lifted, revealing Harlon's rugged face.
He looked down at her.
“You all right?”
Her breath caught.
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Good.”