"Yes."
She hesitated.
"I am heavier than most women."
He nodded.
"I know."
Her cheeks warmed.
He stepped toward the mare.
"June's carried loads of elk meat heavier than either of us. She's built for mountain work."
Lydia looked relieved.
Gideon continued.
"But we'll use the lower trail. Less climbing. Better footing."
She studied the saddle.
It was broad and sturdy, with a reinforced leather seat.
"Did you make that?"
"Modified it."
"For me?"
He nodded.
"I thought you'd be more comfortable."
Lydia looked away.
She had become accustomed to people speaking about her size as a failure.
Gideon treated it as a practical fact, no different from the length of someone's legs or the shape of a saddle.
He did not pretend she was small.
He did not mock her for being large.
He simply made certain the equipment was safe.
She rested one hand against June's warm neck.
"Thank you."
The mare breathed softly against her sleeve.
Gideon smiled.
"She likes you."
Lydia looked toward him.
"How can you tell?"
"She's not trying to steal your cloak."
As if understanding, June reached toward the fabric.
Lydia laughed and stepped backward.
Gideon gently moved the mare's head.
"See? Terrible manners."
They left at dawn beneath a pale-blue sky.
The mountains rose white and enormous above the valley.
Sunlight caught the highest peaks while the lower forests remained dark with shadow.
Snow crunched beneath the horses' hooves.
Flint and Fern ran ahead, occasionally disappearing between the trees before returning to check on the riders.
Lydia wore her heavy wool cloak over a thick brown traveling dress Gideon had helped her retrieve from the trunk.
Her hair was braided loosely beneath a scarf.
Her hands were tucked inside large mittens.
Gideon rode beside her whenever the trail allowed.
He pointed out landmarks.
A split pine struck by lightning.
A frozen waterfall.
An abandoned trapper's shelter.
The remains of a narrow bridge.
Lydia listened carefully.
She was frightened at first.
The mountains seemed too large.
The silence too deep.
The trees crowded the trail in places, creating dark tunnels beneath the snow.
But as the morning progressed, she began to see their beauty.
The blue shadows.
The glittering frost.
The distant ridges shining in the sunlight.
She had lived most of her life among crowded streets, smoke, and brick buildings.
Here, the sky seemed endless.
At a sheltered bend, Gideon stopped.
"We'll rest the horses."
Lydia nodded.
He dismounted first.
Then approached June.
"Ready?"
Lydia hesitated.
The saddle was high.
Her legs were stiff.
"I may need a hand."
Gideon looked up.
"Of course."
He positioned himself beside the mare.
"May I help you down?"
She nodded.
He offered both hands.
Lydia leaned forward.
As she lowered herself, her boot slipped briefly.
Gideon caught her carefully around the waist.
For one breath, she rested against his chest.