“I’m not.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Not anymore.”
“When did that change?”
Lila smiled faintly.
“The creek.”
He remembered.
The first time.
She had been alone beside the secluded creek, skirt lifted to cool swollen ankles after a long morning walk.
Cole rode around the bend unexpectedly.
The moment he understood he had intruded on her privacy, he turned his horse away.
No laughter.
No staring.
No crude remark.
She asked him not to tell.
He gave his word.
Kept it.
That mattered.
Then the general store.
The owner’s husband blocking her behind the counter.
Cole’s voice.
Step away from her.
Then the job offer.
Not charity.
Responsibility.
Three times the wages.
Lila looked at him.
“I stopped being afraid when I realized you knew how to turn away.”
Cole frowned.
“What?”
“At the creek.”
He understood slowly.
“You could have stared.”
“I wasn’t raised by wolves.”
“That is debated.”
He almost smiled.
Lila continued.
“You could have embarrassed me.”
“I promised.”
“You kept it.”
Cole stepped closer.
“And now?”
“Now what?”
“Are you afraid if I don’t turn away?”
The question was intimate enough to silence her.
Cole’s hand rose.
Stopped beside her cheek.
Again.
The same pause.
Lila looked at it.
Then placed his palm against her face herself.
Cole inhaled.
Her eyes lifted.
“There.”
His thumb moved gently across her cheek.
“Lila.”
“Yes?”
“Tell me to stop.”
“I don’t want you to.”
He kissed her.
Nothing rushed.
Nothing claimed.
His hand remained against her cheek.
Lila touched his shirt.
Then his shoulders.
The kiss deepened.
Weeks of restraint collapsed quietly.
No dramatic grabbing.
No reckless urgency.
Only relief.
When they separated, Cole rested his forehead against hers.
Lila smiled.
“You taste like coffee.”
“You complain about my coffee.”
“It’s terrible.”
“Yet you kissed me.”
“Poor judgment.”
He almost kissed her again.
Then she whispered:
“Cole.”
“Yes?”
“We still have a murderer.”
He closed his eyes.
“Right.”
Lila laughed softly.
“Romance has terrible timing.”
“Apparently.”
They watched Earl for two days.
He behaved normally.
Too normally.
Then on Thursday evening he saddled his horse after supper and rode east.
Cole, Daniel, and Lila followed at distance.
Cole objected to Lila coming.
She ignored him.
He had begun to understand that objections were not decisions.
Earl traveled nearly nine miles.
Stopped at an abandoned line shack near Harker property.
Another rider arrived.
Silas Harker.
They spoke.
No Elias.
Then a third rider.
Lila could not see his face.
Tall.
Black coat.
White horse.
Cole stopped breathing.
Even at distance, he recognized the animal.
“Elias had a white mare.”
Daniel whispered:
“Horse would be long dead.”
“Not same horse.”
“Then?”
“Same breeding line.”
They watched.
The third man removed his hat.
Cole went rigid.