January trapped them.
Snow buried the road beneath six feet of white.
Black Vein became its own small world.
There was no traveling to Bitter Creek.
No mail.
No freight.
Nothing beyond the mountain except memory.
Clementine expected confinement to make tempers worse.
Instead, winter changed the rhythm of the camp.
Mining slowed.
Men repaired tools.
Families gathered around cookhouse tables.
At night, someone played fiddle music while others told stories.
Clementine discovered Gideon played chess.
Badly.
"You cheated."
He glared at the board.
"I did not."
"You moved your bishop incorrectly."
"I moved it diagonally."
"You moved it through another piece."
"It's a bishop. Perhaps it climbed."
"Bishops don't climb."
"Mine does."
She laughed.
Gideon looked pleased.
Clementine pointed at him.
"You know you're losing."
"I know you're distracted."
She looked down.
He captured her queen.
"You are a terrible man."
"So I've heard."
Their evenings became habitual.
Chess.
Coffee.
Books.
Sometimes silence.
Gideon read newspapers months out of date.
Clementine studied accounts.
Their shoulders occasionally touched.
Neither commented.
The camp noticed.
Of course it noticed.
Caleb was first to become brave enough to speak.
He cornered Clementine near the supply shed.
"When are you two getting married?"
Clementine nearly dropped a flour sack on his foot.
"What?"
"You and the boss."
"There is no 'me and the boss.'"
Caleb nodded solemnly.
"Naturally."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
"He has never courted me."
"The man built you a new office."
"The old office leaked."
"He doesn't fix my roof."
"You aren't doing the books."
Caleb leaned closer.
"He also hasn't played chess with another human being since 1876."
Clementine narrowed her eyes.
"Why?"
"Because he loses."
She laughed.
When she told Gideon later, he looked offended.
"I don't always lose."
"You've beaten me twice."
"Exactly."
"Out of thirty-one games."
"Statistics can be cruel."
Winter softened something between them.
Not all at once.
There was no grand declaration.
No dramatic kiss beneath falling snow.
Instead there were small things.
Gideon leaving the warmer chair for Clementine without mentioning it.
Clementine mending the tear in his coat.
Gideon learning she liked cinnamon and mysteriously discovering a jar hidden among old supplies.
Clementine learning he hated thunder despite living fearlessly through almost everything else.
Then February came.
With wolves.
The pack had grown desperate.
Game was scarce.
For three nights their howls echoed through the valley.
On the fourth, horses panicked inside the stable.
Clementine woke to shouting.
She reached the yard as Gideon and several men ran toward the barn.
A wolf had slipped through a broken fence.
Not supernatural.
Not enormous.
Simply starving and terrified.
The horses kicked wildly.
A stable boy named Eli was trapped behind a stall gate.
Gideon moved forward.
Clementine saw another problem.
A lantern had fallen.
Flame caught dry straw.
"Fire!"
Everything became chaos.
Men rushed for water.
Smoke filled the barn.
Clementine entered.
Someone grabbed her sleeve.
"Miss Mercer!"
She pulled free.
"Eli's inside."
She found the boy coughing near the rear wall.
A horse blocked the aisle.
Clementine seized its halter.
"Easy."
The animal reared.
She held on.
"Easy!"
Somewhere beyond the smoke, Gideon shouted her name.
Clementine pulled Eli against her body and pushed toward the door.
A beam cracked overhead.
Then Gideon appeared through the smoke.
His face looked unlike anything she had seen.
Terrified.
Not for himself.
For her.
He lifted Eli.
Clementine followed.
They stumbled outside moments before part of the stable roof collapsed.
Eli survived.
The horses survived.
The wolf escaped into the forest.
Half the barn burned.
When the danger ended, Gideon grabbed Clementine by both shoulders.
"What were you thinking?"
She stared.
"Excuse me?"
"You went into a burning building."
"A child was inside."
"I know."
"Then what exactly was I supposed to do?"
"Get me."
"There wasn't time."
Gideon swore.
Men nearby quietly moved away.
Clementine's temper ignited.
"You don't get to order me into safety while you run toward every danger on this mountain."
"It's different."
The phrase stopped her.
Different.
Clementine's face hardened.
"Because you're a man?"
"No."
"Because I'm a woman?"
"No."
"Then why?"
Gideon opened his mouth.
Nothing came.
Clementine waited.
His hands were still gripping her shoulders.
"Why, Gideon?"
His expression broke.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
"Because I love you."
The world disappeared.
Snow.
Smoke.
Men.
Burning timber.
All of it.
Clementine stared at him.
Gideon's hands slowly released her.
He looked almost angry with himself.
"I hadn't planned to say it like that."
Clementine's heart slammed against her ribs.
"How had you planned to say it?"
"I hadn't planned to say it at all."
"That's very romantic."
"I told you I'm bad at this."
She laughed.
Then unexpectedly began crying.
Gideon's face changed instantly.
"What happened?"
Clementine covered her mouth.
Nothing had happened.
Everything had happened.
Twenty-six years of being measured.
Ignored.
Mocked.
Rejected.
She had trained herself not to want what other women wanted because wanting it gave other people the power to deny it.
Now the strongest man she had ever met stood in front of a burning barn looking terrified because he loved her.
"Clementine?"
"I'm fine."
"You're crying."
"I'm aware."
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Then why—"
She kissed him.
Gideon froze.
For one heartbeat.
Then his hands came carefully around her waist.
Not roughly.
Not possessively.
As if even now he waited for permission.
Clementine stepped closer.
That was permission enough.
A cheer exploded behind them.
Clementine jerked away.
Half the camp stood watching.
Caleb raised both arms.
"About damn time!"
Gideon looked murderous.
Clementine laughed so hard she cried again.
Later, when the fire had been extinguished and Eli was sleeping safely, Clementine and Gideon sat alone by the cabin hearth.
Neither knew what to say.
Eventually Clementine asked, "How long?"
Gideon stared at the fire.
"How long what?"
"Don't be difficult."
"I need specificity."
"How long have you loved me?"
His ears turned slightly red.
It was delightful.
"Not sure."
"Liar."
He sighed.
"The dance."
Clementine's mouth opened.
"You didn't know me."
"I knew enough to be interested."
"That isn't love."
"No."
He looked at her.
"But I think part of me decided to hope."
Clementine's chest tightened.
"Why didn't you say something?"
"I've seen how men in Bitter Creek look at you."
"That doesn't answer the question."
"Yes, it does."
Gideon's gaze stayed steady.
"You spent your life being evaluated. I didn't want to become another man standing in front of your chair deciding whether you were worth choosing."
Clementine could not speak.
"So I waited," he said. "Until you could decide whether you wanted me anywhere near your chair at all."
She laughed softly.
"You're better with words than you pretend."
"Rare occurrence."
She reached for his hand.
"But Gideon?"
"Yes?"
"I chose you quite some time ago."
For the first time since she had met him, Gideon Hayes looked genuinely stunned.
The sight was worth every humiliating moment Clementine had survived in Bitter Creek.
Then the mountain shook.
A deep explosion rolled through the valley.
Both of them stood.
Another blast followed.
Not from the mine's active tunnel.
From the lower storage area.
Gideon's face went hard.
"Powder house."
They ran outside.
Flames were rising near the mine.
And silhouetted against them was a rider racing toward the southern trail.
Someone had returned.
Someone connected to the silver theft.
And this time, whoever it was had not come to steal.
They had come to destroy Black Vein.