"Easy."
She looked up.
"I'm sorry."
He frowned.
"For what?"
"Being slow."
His expression softened.
"Lydia, we've ridden through snow for nearly ten hours."
She looked down.
"I know."
"Anybody would be tired."
He paused.
"Come inside."
He led the horses into shelter while Lydia opened the cabin door.
The warm air inside was faint but welcome.
She placed the wrapped map on the table.
Then began feeding wood into the stove.
By the time Gideon returned, the fire was burning strongly.
He removed his coat.
Snow fell from his shoulders.
Lydia looked toward the door.
"Do you think those men will come here?"
Gideon considered the question.
"Possibly."
She swallowed.
"What will we do?"
"Keep the doors secured. Watch the trail. And go to Calder's Crossing when the road clears."
She nodded.
Then looked toward Elias's journal.
"They know we found something."
"Maybe."
"Gideon."
He turned.
She looked frightened.
"I don't want your brother's death to become another reason someone gets hurt."
His expression changed.
He walked closer.
"Lydia, listen to me."
She looked up.
"You aren't responsible for what those men choose to do."
"I brought Everett into this."
"No."
"But he's my husband."
Gideon went still.
Lydia heard the word as soon as she spoke it.
Husband.
Not former husband.
Not dead husband.
A man who might still be alive.
She looked away.
"I'm sorry."
Gideon took a slow breath.
"You don't have to apologize."
She stared at the floor.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he pulled out a chair.
"Sit down. I'll make supper."
Lydia looked toward the stove.
"I can cook."
"I know."
He smiled faintly.
"But tonight, I'm cooking."
She hesitated.
Then sat.
Gideon began preparing stew.
The dogs settled beside the fire.
Lydia watched him move around the cabin.
He knew where every pot belonged.
Every spoon.
Every jar.
His hands worked with the quiet assurance of a man accustomed to surviving alone.
Yet he had made room for her.
Not just physically.
He had changed the way he moved through his own home.
He asked before touching her belongings.
He left space at the table.
He listened when she spoke.
And now, despite learning that their marriage might not be legally valid, he seemed more concerned about her comfort than his own disappointment.
That frightened her in a different way.
She was beginning to love him.
And she did not know whether she had the right.