Toby slept for sixteen hours.
Gideon barely moved from beside him.
Maeve had thought a man his size would dominate any room simply by occupying it.
Instead, beside a sick six-year-old, Gideon seemed strangely helpless.
Every few minutes, he checked Toby's breathing.
Once he touched the boy's forehead so gently that Maeve turned away.
Some tenderness was too private to watch.
When Toby finally woke, Tess screamed.
“Toby!”
She launched herself across the bed.
Maeve caught her before she landed on him.
“Easy.”
Toby blinked.
His voice sounded rough.
“Hungry.”
Maeve laughed and cried at the same time.
“That's the finest thing you've ever said.”
She prepared broth.
Gideon stood near the wall.
Toby noticed him.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Gideon said, “You scared ten years off me.”
Toby frowned.
“You old now?”
Maeve pressed her lips together.
Gideon looked offended.
Tess giggled.
It was the first time Maeve had heard the little girl laugh.
The sound changed everything.
From that day onward, the cabin began healing faster.
Not magically.
The twins still startled.
Toby still woke from nightmares.
Tess still panicked when Maeve went outside without warning.
But now they followed her around the cabin.
They helped knead bread badly.
They carried kindling two sticks at a time.
Maeve taught them letters by scratching them into flour spread across the table.
Tess learned quickly.
Toby pretended not to care, then practiced when he thought nobody was watching.
Gideon became part of the lessons reluctantly.
One evening Maeve held up a wooden spoon.
“What letter?”
“T,” Tess said.
“No.”
“P,” Toby guessed.
“No.”
Gideon entered.
“S.”
Maeve looked at him.
“For spoon?”
He removed his coat.
“Suppose.”
Maeve stared.
“You cannot possibly believe spoon begins with S because you suppose it does.”
Toby snorted.
Gideon gave him a wounded look.
The children collapsed into laughter.
Maeve laughed too.
Gideon stood in the middle of the room pretending to be irritated.
But she saw him smile.
That smile stayed with her longer than she expected.
It disturbed her.
She had arrived expecting Gideon to be her owner.
Instead he never touched her wages because there were none, never locked a door, never told her where she could go.
The only thing resembling their original arrangement was the fact that she remained in his house.
One afternoon, Maeve finally confronted him.
“What exactly am I to you?”
Gideon stopped sharpening his knife.
“What?”
“Amos traded me to you.”
His expression darkened.
“He traded my labor.”
“He traded me.”
“I didn't buy a person.”
“You gave him two mules.”
“For you to work here.”
“And if I leave?”
Gideon stared at her.
Maeve forced herself not to look away.
“If I walked down that trail tomorrow, would you stop me?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
She had expected hesitation.
There was none.
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That I wasn't trapped.”
Gideon set down the knife.
“I thought you knew.”
Maeve laughed bitterly.
“Men like Amos make sure girls like me don't know things like that.”
Gideon's jaw tightened.
“What did he tell you?”
“That this was permanent.”
“It isn't.”
“That you owned what he sold.”
“I don't.”
“What do you own, then?”
“The two worst mules I've ever seen.”
Maeve stared.
A laugh escaped before she could stop it.
Gideon rubbed his beard.
“Amos cheated me.”
“They looked strong.”
“One bites.”
Maeve glanced at the table where Toby was drawing.
“Seems you have a history with biting things.”
Gideon looked toward the boy.
Toby had heard.
He grinned.
That night, something shifted between Maeve and Gideon.
Not romance.
Not yet.
Something more basic.
Choice.
Maeve remained at the cabin because she decided to.
The knowledge changed the floor beneath her feet.
Three days later, she found a locked trunk beneath Gideon's bed.
She had not been searching.
She was sweeping.
The broom caught the edge.
The trunk scraped forward.
Gideon entered at precisely the wrong moment.
His face changed.
“Leave that.”
Maeve froze.
“I wasn't—”
“I said leave it.”
The sharpness in his voice made Tess drop a cup.
The cup shattered.
Tess screamed.
Toby shoved himself beneath the table.
Gideon went still.
Maeve stared at him.
He looked toward the frightened children.
Then toward the trunk.
Slowly, he sat down.
“Damn it.”
Maeve crouched beside Tess.
“It's only a cup.”
Tess trembled.
Gideon's face had drained of color.
“I didn't mean—”
Maeve said quietly, “We know.”
Toby remained hidden.
That evening Gideon unlocked the trunk.
He did it without announcing anything.
Maeve was mending near the fire.
The twins were asleep.
Gideon placed several objects on the table.
A woman's shawl.
A photograph.
A child's wooden horse.
A bundle of letters.
Maeve looked up.
“My sister,” Gideon said.
He handed her the photograph.
A young woman stood beside a much younger Gideon.
She had his eyes.
In front of them were Toby and Tess as toddlers.
They looked clean and round-cheeked.
Happy.
“Ellen?”
He nodded.
“What happened?”
Gideon stared into the fire.
“She married Jonah Pierce.”
Maeve recognized the name.
Pierce.
A family from the western side of the county.
Known for cattle.
And violence.
“Jonah drank,” Gideon continued. “Played cards. Lost money. Blamed Ellen when there wasn't enough.”
His hands tightened.
“I told her to leave him.”
“Did she?”
“Eventually.”
Maeve waited.
“She brought the twins here two years ago. Jonah came looking.”
A knot formed in Maeve's stomach.
“What happened?”
“I sent him away.”
“Then?”
“He came back when I was gone.”
Gideon's voice flattened.
“Ellen was hurt.”
Maeve barely breathed.
“She lasted three days.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“The twins saw?”
“I don't know how much.”
But both knew the truth.
Enough.
More than enough.
“Jonah?”
“Disappeared.”
“You think he's alive?”
“Yes.”
Maeve glanced toward the sleeping children.
“Does he know they're here?”
“He did.”
“Did?”
Gideon's gray eyes shifted toward her.
“Men who owe money eventually show themselves.”
A chill moved through Maeve.
“What does that mean?”
Gideon took one of the letters.
“He borrowed against land that wasn't his.”
“Whose?”
“Ellen's.”
“She owned land?”
“Forty acres in the valley. Our mother left it to her.”
“And now?”
“Toby and Tess inherit it.”
Maeve understood.
“If Jonah returns, he could claim them.”
“Or their land.”
“Can he?”
“As their father.”
The cabin suddenly felt less safe.
Maeve looked toward the door.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because you've been here a month.”
“And?”
“And you were traded here for livestock, bitten by a child, trapped in a blizzard, and nearly watched that child die. Seemed enough information.”
Maeve almost smiled.
Then she noticed something.
One letter on the table was newer than the others.
She picked it up.
“What's this?”
Gideon took it from her too quickly.
Maeve's eyes narrowed.
“Gideon.”
“Nothing.”
“When a man says nothing while snatching a letter from somebody's hand, it is rarely nothing.”
He sighed.
“Came last month.”
“From?”
“Jonah.”
Maeve's blood chilled.
“What did he say?”
“He wants the children.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“And you were going to tell me when?”
“Never, if I could help it.”
“That's a terrible plan.”
“I have plans.”
“Do any involve words?”
He scowled.
Maeve held out her hand.
“The letter.”
“No.”
“The letter, Gideon.”
For several seconds they stared at each other.
Then he handed it over.
Maeve read.
Reed,
You took what belongs to me.
The children and Ellen's property are mine by law.
I'll come before winter ends.
If you make this difficult, remember what happened last time you stood between me and my family.
J.P.
Maeve reread the final sentence.
“What happened last time?”
Gideon's silence answered.
“You fought him.”
“Yes.”
“How badly?”
“Badly enough.”
“Did he hurt Ellen because of it?”
Gideon stared into the fire.
“I've asked myself that every day.”
Maeve lowered the letter.
“You didn't hurt Ellen.”
“I wasn't there.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
“It feels the same.”
For the first time since arriving, Maeve touched him willingly.
She placed her fingers over his scarred hand.
Gideon looked down.
Neither moved.
“You cannot spend the rest of your life punishing yourself,” Maeve whispered.
His eyes lifted to hers.
“Watch me.”
There was no humor in the words.
Maeve's heart hurt for him.
But before she could answer, floorboards creaked.
Toby stood at the edge of the room.
His face was pale.
“Papa's coming?”
Gideon stood.
“Toby—”
The boy backed away.
“No.”
Maeve rose.
“Toby.”
“No!”
He grabbed Tess.
“Hide!”
The twins disappeared beneath the table.
Maeve looked at Gideon.
He looked destroyed.
She crouched beside the table.
“Toby, listen to me.”
“No.”
“Your father isn't here.”
“He comes at night.”
The words froze the room.
Maeve looked at Gideon.
His face had become stone.
“What do you mean?” Maeve asked.
Toby shook his head.
“Toby, did he come here after your mother died?”
The boy pressed both hands over his ears.
Tess began whispering.
“Cellar.”
Maeve turned toward her.
“What?”
“He came cellar.”
Gideon moved so quickly the chair behind him overturned.
“When?”
Tess started crying.
Maeve raised one hand sharply.
“Don't.”
Gideon stopped.
Maeve crawled beneath the table.
She sat with the twins in the darkness.
It took almost an hour before Tess could explain.
Months earlier, while Gideon had been away trapping, a man had entered the cabin.
The twins had hidden in the root cellar.
He searched the house.
He took papers.
He said he would return.
Gideon had never known.
That night, he checked the trunk again.
One document was missing.
Ellen's original land deed.
Maeve understood before Gideon said it.
Jonah was not merely coming for his children.
He was coming because possessing them would help him possess the land.
And somewhere beyond the mountain, a man who had already destroyed one family was preparing to return.