No room.
Winter approaching.
And an entire store full of people clearly convinced going anywhere with this man was a terrible idea.
She looked at him.
“Separate room?”
“Yes.”
“Lock?”
“Inside.”
“My wages remain mine?”
“Yes.”
“If I decide to leave after a month?”
“I bring you back.”
“Why are you paying thirty?”
“Because you're going somewhere most people don't want to go.”
Fair.
She looked at his hands.
Scarred.
Callused.
One knuckle crooked.
Then his eyes.
Hard.
But not hungry.
“Fine.”
The store owner nearly dropped his pencil.
The mountain cowboy simply nodded.
“We leave tomorrow.”
The woman lifted one finger.
“I have not agreed to tomorrow.”
“Storm after noon.”
She looked outside.
“How do you know?”
“Mountain disappeared behind the western cloud.”
She turned.
It had.
“Tomorrow.”
That night at the hotel, the owner’s wife came to her room.
“You know who he is?”
“The rancher?”
The woman hesitated.
“People call him the Black Ridge Wolf.”
“That sounds melodramatic.”
“They say he killed three men in Colorado.”
“Did he?”
“Some say five.”
“That does not improve the reliability.”
The hotel owner’s wife sat beside the door.
“He doesn't like women.”
That caught her attention.
“What does that mean?”
“No woman stays at his ranch.”
“He avoids dances.”
“Never courted.”
“Turned down the banker’s daughter.”
The woman smiled.
“Perhaps he simply dislikes the banker’s daughter.”
The older woman sighed.
“You’re not frightened?”
“Of what?”
“Him.”
The woman looked at her own reflection in the window.
“I've met men who smile while hurting people.”
“At least this one advertises being unpleasant.”
The older woman laughed despite herself.
The next morning they left before sunrise.
The mountain cowboy had brought a wide saddle.
She noticed.
Said nothing.
He noticed her noticing.
“Borrowed it.”
“Why?”
“More comfortable.”
“For whom?”
“You.”
There it was.
The conversation every large woman dreaded.
She stiffened.
He saw it.
Then added:
“My normal saddle was built for me.”
“You would have hated it after five miles.”
No judgment.
Simple mechanics.
She relaxed slightly.
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
Nothing more.
The ride took nine hours.
Snow began before noon.
The mountain cowboy checked on her repeatedly without becoming irritating.
“Hands warm?”
“Yes.”
“Feet?”
“Yes.”
“Lie better.”
“My left foot is cold.”
He stopped.
Adjusted the blanket around her boot.
Never touched her leg unnecessarily.
They continued.
At one narrow pass, her horse slipped.