Josie wanted to return to the cabin.
Not alone.
With family.
It took two weeks to arrange everything.
Mrs. Henderson offered Ruth a permanent place, but Ruth refused.
“I already lost you once,” she told Josie. “I’m not doing it again.”
Samuel, nineteen, immediately accepted Hayes’s offer to work.
Eli, fourteen, asked whether mountain lions were common.
Hayes said yes.
Eli packed within ten minutes.
They traveled north together in early May.
The mountain looked completely different from the frozen prison Josie remembered.
Wildflowers pushed through wet soil.
Streams rushed with snowmelt.
Birds returned.
Sunlight touched slopes that had spent months in shadow.
When the cabin appeared between pines, Josie’s chest tightened.
Ruth stared.
“This is where you lived?”
“Yes.”
“With him?”
“Yes.”
“Entire winter?”
“Yes.”
Ruth looked at Hayes.
Hayes pretended to be intensely interested in unloading a saddlebag.
Josie rolled her eyes.
“Stop.”
“I said nothing.”
“You’re thinking loudly.”
“I like him.”
“You’ve known him three days.”
“He barely talks. That helps.”
Samuel laughed.
The cabin was too small for five people.
Hayes had planned for that.
He pointed toward a flat clearing fifty yards away.
“Build there.”
Samuel frowned.
“Build what?”
“House.”
Josie turned.
“What house?”
Hayes shrugged.
“Ours, if you want.”
She stared.
He had marked foundation lines with stakes before winter.
“You did this when?”
“Last fall.”
“Before me?”
“No.”
Her heart jumped.
“You started planning a house after I came?”
Hayes looked uncomfortable.
“Cabin was small.”
“You thought I’d stay?”
“No.”
“Then why build?”
“In case you did.”
Josie crossed the distance between them and kissed him.
Samuel immediately turned away.
Ruth laughed.
Eli said, “I knew it.”
The following month became the happiest hard work Josie had ever known.
Hayes and Samuel cut timber.
Josie and Ruth planted a garden.
Eli complained about everything but worked harder than anyone.
The new house slowly rose.
Two bedrooms downstairs.
A loft upstairs.
A large kitchen.
Wide windows despite Hayes’s objections.
“Heat loss,” he muttered.
“Sunlight,” Josie countered.
“Firewood.”
“Windows.”
“Winter.”
“Windows.”
Hayes surrendered.
“Fine.”
Ruth whispered, “You trained him fast.”
Hayes heard.
“I’m still here.”
“That doesn’t mean trained animals can’t hear,” Ruth replied.
Josie laughed so hard she had to sit down.
Hayes discovered he liked the sound of a noisy home.
That surprised him.
For fifteen years, he had believed solitude kept pain away.
Now mornings began with Eli shouting about missing boots, Ruth humming while she cooked, Samuel arguing with Hayes about fence posts, and Josie laughing at all of them.
Hayes would stand outside occasionally, listening.
It terrified him how much he had to lose.
In June he rode to town for supplies.
Josie went with him.
Cold Water Crossing had changed too.
Or perhaps she had.
People who once avoided her gaze now greeted her.
Mrs. Dunner slipped extra sugar into their order.
The blacksmith refused payment for a repaired hinge.
Sheriff Collins nodded respectfully.
Pike was nowhere visible.
Josie relaxed.
That was a mistake.
They finished loading the wagon shortly before dusk.
Hayes stepped inside the trading post for nails.
Josie remained outside.
A voice spoke behind her.
“You look comfortable.”
She froze.
Pike stood in the alley.
He looked worse.
Unshaven.
Drunk.
Angry.
Josie’s first instinct was to run toward the store.
She hated that instinct.
So she remained where she was.
“What do you want?”
“You ruined me.”
“No.”
Pike stepped closer.
“People won’t trade with me.”
“That’s their choice.”
“Sheriff watches everything I do.”
“Probably wise.”
“You made me a joke.”
“You tied me to a wagon.”
“I was making money.”
Josie stared.
“And that makes it better?”
Pike’s hand moved toward his belt.
Josie backed toward the wagon.
“Don’t.”
He smiled.
“You think your mountain man can protect you forever?”
A rifle lever clicked.
Pike stopped.
Hayes stood in the trading-post doorway.
“No,” Hayes said. “She doesn’t.”
Pike turned slowly.
Hayes lowered the rifle slightly.
“Because she can protect herself.”
Josie understood.
The revolver Hayes gave her in winter was beneath the wagon seat.
She reached for it.
Pike’s expression changed.
He ran.
Hayes did not shoot.
Josie did not either.
Sheriff Collins emerged from the saloon and chased Pike, but darkness swallowed him beyond the buildings.
Hayes reached Josie.
“You hurt?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Her hands shook anyway.
Hayes touched her shoulder.
“We go home.”
That night, they told Samuel what happened.
Samuel wanted to ride back immediately.
Hayes blocked the door.
“No.”
“He threatened my sister.”
“Yes.”
“And you let him run?”
“Yes.”
Samuel stared.
“You’re not angry?”
Hayes looked at him.
“I’m furious.”
“Then why—”
“Because angry men make graves faster than they make justice.”
Samuel stopped.
Hayes continued.
“Your sister spent years living around men who thought anger gave them rights. We’re not becoming those men.”
Josie watched him.
Samuel slowly nodded.
“All right.”
Sheriff Collins searched for Pike.
Days passed.
No sign.
Then two weeks.
Hayes began believing Pike had fled the territory.
July arrived.
The house gained a roof.
Their garden flourished.
Josie began preserving berries.
One afternoon Hayes came in carrying a small wooden box.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
“A box is rarely nothing.”
He placed it on the table.
“Open it.”
Inside lay a simple silver ring.
Josie stared.
Hayes stood awkwardly.
“I’m not good at speeches.”
“I know.”
“That wasn’t criticism invitation.”
She smiled.
Hayes took a breath.
“I don’t want you because I saved you.”
Josie’s eyes filled.
“And I don’t want you because you saved me when I broke my leg.”
He reached for her hand.
“I want you because when you’re gone, every room feels wrong.”
Tears escaped.
“And because you argue about windows.”
She laughed.
“And because you make terrible coffee when angry.”
“I do not.”
“You do.”
“This proposal is getting worse.”
“I warned you.”
Hayes held the ring.
“Josie Bell, would you choose me?”
Not marry me.
Choose me.
That mattered.
Josie nodded.
“Yes.”
Hayes slid the ring onto her finger.
Ruth screamed when she found out.
Eli demanded a larger bedroom as a wedding present.
Samuel shook Hayes’s hand, then hugged him without warning.
They planned a small ceremony for August.
The church in Cold Water Crossing.
Mrs. Henderson would come.
So would the Dunners.
Even Sheriff Collins.
Josie wanted no grand celebration.
She wanted promises spoken freely.
Three nights before the wedding, she woke smelling smoke.
At first she thought it was the stove.
Then she heard Samuel shouting.
“FIRE!”
Josie sat upright.
Outside, orange light filled the window.
The barn was burning.
Hayes was already moving.
“Everybody out!”
Ruth grabbed Eli.
Samuel ran toward the barn.
Hayes shouted, “Stay back!”
“The horse!”
“I’ll get him!”
Hayes reached the barn door, but flames consumed the roof.
A terrified whinny came from inside.
Josie saw movement near the tree line.
A man running.
“Hayes!”
He turned.
“There!”
The figure disappeared between pines.
Hayes knew immediately.
Pike.
The barn roof collapsed.
The horse screamed once.
Then silence.
Josie covered her mouth.
Hayes stood staring at the flames.
Something in his face became terrifyingly calm.
Sheriff Collins arrived the next morning.
He examined tracks.
One set of boots.
Evidence of lamp oil.
And near a tree, a torn strip from a distinctive green coat Pike often wore.
“That’s enough,” Collins said.
“For what?” Hayes asked.
“Warrant.”
“Where is he?”
Collins looked east.
“He has a camp near Black Ridge.”
Samuel reached for his rifle.
Hayes stopped him.
“No.”
Samuel exploded.
“He killed our horse!”
“And nearly burned the house!”
Hayes faced Collins.
“You’re going?”
“Yes.”
“I’m coming.”
Collins shook his head.
“No.”
Hayes looked toward Josie.
Then the black ruins of the barn.
“He came onto my land.”
“And I’m the law.”
Hayes’s jaw hardened.
Josie approached.
“Hayes.”
He turned.
She could see the fight inside him.
A younger Hayes might have gone.
A lonelier Hayes certainly would have.
The man standing before her had a family now.
“Stay,” she said.
His eyes searched hers.
“Please.”
Hayes slowly nodded.
Collins left.
The wedding was postponed.
Not because Josie was afraid.
Because the barn had to be cleared.
Because animals needed temporary shelter.
Because life sometimes demanded labor before celebration.
Two days passed.
Then three.
Sheriff Collins did not return.
On the fourth morning, his horse wandered into Cold Water Crossing alone.
Blood stained the saddle.
A posse formed.
Hayes saddled another borrowed horse.
This time Josie did not ask him to stay.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“Don’t start.”
“Josie—”
“He came after me first.”
“This isn’t revenge.”
“I know.”
“He might kill you.”
“He might kill you too.”
Hayes stared at her.
She strapped on the revolver.
“You taught me the mountain.”
“I taught you because—”
“Because you knew I could learn.”
Hayes closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, he nodded.
“All right.”
Together they rode toward Black Ridge.
Near sunset they found Collins alive, wounded in the shoulder.
Pike had ambushed him and fled farther into the high country.
Collins warned them.
“He’s desperate.”
Hayes helped bandage him.
Josie looked toward the ridge.
Storm clouds gathered over the peaks.
Then came a distant gunshot.
A second followed.
And Hayes knew Pike was no longer running away.
He was calling them toward him.