Caleb woke Eleanor two hours before sunrise.
The storm had weakened, though snow still whispered against the cabin roof.
“Time.”
She sat up immediately.
Fear had kept her from sleeping much anyway.
Caleb had already prepared everything.
Dried meat.
Biscuits.
A tin cup.
A small medical pouch.
A wool scarf.
A second pair of gloves that were too large for Eleanor but better than nothing.
He had also found trousers belonging to his younger brother from years before and shortened them roughly so Eleanor would not have to cross the mountains in a silk dress.
When he handed them to her, she stared at him.
“What?”
“They’re practical.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“No man in my family would ever permit me to wear trousers.”
Caleb frowned.
“Your family isn’t crossing a mountain.”
Eleanor smiled.
It surprised both of them.
The expression changed her face completely.
Caleb looked away first.
“I’ll wait outside.”
She changed.
When she emerged fifteen minutes later wearing wool trousers, two shirts, Caleb’s spare coat, and boots stuffed with extra socks, she looked nothing like the elegant woman from the reward poster.
Caleb approved.
“Better.”
“I feel like I’m wearing your entire cabin.”
“Warm?”
“Very.”
“Then good.”
Sheriff Bell had already departed to misdirect Crane’s men toward the northern trail.
Caleb saddled Jasper and a second horse he kept for summer guiding.
Eleanor frowned at the animal.
“I’m not an accomplished rider.”
“Can you stay on?”
“Usually.”
“That’s accomplished enough.”
They left before dawn.
The forest was silent.
Snow softened every hoofbeat.
Caleb led them west for nearly a mile, then abruptly turned south through dense timber.
Eleanor followed.
For two hours they climbed.
Daylight arrived as a pale grayness rather than sunrise.
At first they did not speak.
Eleanor concentrated on staying balanced while Caleb studied the terrain.
Eventually she asked, “Why do you live here?”
Caleb glanced back.
“Because the cabin is here.”
“That is not what I meant.”
“I know.”
She waited.
He sighed.
“Cities are loud.”
“That cannot be the whole reason.”
“No.”
He rode another hundred yards.
“My brother died.”
Eleanor did not ask immediately.
Perhaps that was why Caleb continued.
“War.”
“I’m sorry.”
“He was nineteen.”
Caleb’s jaw tightened.
“I was twenty-seven. Came home after. Couldn’t stand people talking about honor as though it made burying boys easier.”
Eleanor watched his back.
“So you came here?”
“My father had built the cabin for trapping years before. I stayed.”
“Eleven years?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Mostly.”
She thought of eleven winters in this wilderness.
“Were you lonely?”
Caleb did not answer for so long she thought he would not.
“Sometimes.”
“Why stay?”
He looked over his shoulder.
“Loneliness and peace can look similar from a distance.”
Eleanor absorbed that.
“What about up close?”
“You learn the difference.”
They continued.
By midday the trail narrowed along a ridge.
A steep slope dropped to their right.
Caleb dismounted.
“Walk from here.”
Eleanor followed his example.
The snow reached nearly to her knees.
Within twenty minutes her breathing became ragged.
Caleb noticed.
“We stop.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
She gave him an irritated look.
He almost smiled.
“There’s a windbreak ahead.”
They reached a cluster of rocks and rested.
Caleb handed her water.
Eleanor drank.
“I hate being weak.”
“You nearly froze to death four days ago.”
“That does not make weakness less irritating.”
“It means you’re alive enough to be irritated.”
She laughed softly.
Caleb stared.
Again, Eleanor caught him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because sometimes nothing is the answer.”
A sound echoed across the ridge.
Caleb instantly stood.
Hoofbeats.
Distant.
Eleanor’s smile disappeared.
“They followed.”
Caleb climbed onto a boulder and searched the forest below.
Movement.
Three riders.
Maybe four.
“They found the trail.”
“How?”
“Crane’s good.”
“What do we do?”
Caleb looked toward the pass.
“We stop moving like people they can chase.”
He led the animals downslope into a creek bed.
For the next hour they traveled through frozen water and deep brush.
At one point Eleanor slipped.
Caleb caught her around the waist.
They froze.
His hand was firm but gentle.
Her face was inches from his chest.
For a strange second the mountain vanished.
No pursuers.
No snow.
Only breath.
Caleb immediately released her.
“You all right?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
They continued.
But Eleanor felt the imprint of his hand long afterward.
By late afternoon the riders were no longer visible.
Caleb found an abandoned trapping shelter built against a rock wall.
They could not risk a large fire.
He made a small one inside a stone ring.
Eleanor sat wrapped in blankets.
Caleb prepared coffee.
“I’ve never had camp coffee.”
“You may regret changing that.”
She tasted it.
Her face tightened.
“That is terrible.”
“Told you.”
“Is it supposed to taste burned?”
“Yes.”
“And bitter?”
“Yes.”
“And vaguely like the bottom of a boot?”
“That means I made it correctly.”
She laughed.
Caleb smiled.
It was the first time Eleanor had seen him do it fully.
He looked younger.
Less like part of the mountain.
“Caleb?”
“Yes?”
“Why did you lie for me?”
His smile faded.
“I didn’t.”
“You told Crane you had not seen a woman who wished to go with him.”
“That was true.”
“You knew what I meant.”
He stared into the fire.
“Because I believed you.”
“How could you?”
“You were afraid while unconscious.”
“That proves nothing.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“But fear has a sound.”
Eleanor became quiet.
Caleb continued.
“I’ve heard men afraid of dying. Men afraid of prison. Women afraid of storms. Children afraid of strangers.”
He paused.
“You sounded afraid of being owned.”
Her eyes filled before she could stop them.
She turned away.
“I hate crying.”
“Then don’t apologize for it.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Good.”
A tear rolled down her cheek.
Eleanor laughed weakly.
“You are very strange.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Night settled.
They could not both sleep deeply.
Caleb took first watch.
Hours later Eleanor woke and found him sitting near the entrance.
“Your turn.”
He looked at her.
“You need rest.”
“So do you.”
“I’m used to it.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t need it.”
Something in her tone ended the argument.
Caleb lay down near the opposite wall.
Eleanor sat beside the dying fire with his rifle across her knees.
She watched him sleep.
Without his guarded expression, he looked tired.
Not physically.
Older than exhaustion.
She wondered what eleven years of silence did to a person.
Then she heard a branch break.
Eleanor stiffened.
Another sound.
A horse snorted.
Her heart raced.
“Caleb.”
His eyes opened instantly.
“Someone’s outside.”
He rose silently.
The fire was nearly dead.
Caleb motioned for her to stay low.
Voices drifted through the trees.
Crane.
“Tracks end near here.”
Caleb whispered, “Back wall.”
“There’s nowhere—”
He moved a stack of old hides.
Behind them, a narrow crack split the rock.
“A miner’s crawl tunnel.”
Eleanor stared.
“You knew?”
“I hoped.”
They squeezed through.
The passage was barely wide enough for Caleb’s shoulders.
Behind them, men entered the shelter.
“Still warm.”
Crane’s voice.
“They’re close.”
Eleanor and Caleb crawled through darkness.
Twenty feet.
Thirty.
The tunnel opened on the opposite side of the ridge behind thick brush.
Caleb emerged first.
He helped Eleanor out.
Voices sounded behind them.
They moved fast.
Then a gunshot cracked.
Eleanor flinched.
“Run!”
They raced downhill.
A second shot splintered bark beside Caleb.
He pushed Eleanor behind a tree.
“Stay.”
“No!”
“Eleanor.”
His tone left no room.
He fired once toward the ridge.
A man cursed.
Caleb grabbed her hand.
They ran again.
Snow tore at Eleanor’s lungs.
She stumbled.
Recovered.
Behind them Crane shouted.
“Stop! Miss Ashcroft, your father only wants you home!”
Eleanor turned.
“Tell my father I would rather die!”
Caleb pulled her forward.
“Don’t waste breath.”
They reached a frozen stream.
Caleb stopped.
His eyes moved upstream.
Then downstream.
A plan formed.
“Follow exactly where I step.”
The ice groaned beneath them.
Eleanor’s stomach tightened.
Halfway across, riders appeared above.
Caleb fired toward a snow-heavy slope.
Nothing.
Then again.
Snow shifted.
A low rumble began.
Crane looked upward.
“Move!”
The slope broke.
Not a massive avalanche, but enough snow thundered between the trees to block the trail.
Caleb and Eleanor reached the opposite bank.
For several minutes they simply ran.
Eventually Caleb slowed.
“They won’t cross that tonight.”
Eleanor bent forward, breathing hard.
Then she started laughing.
Caleb stared.
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
She laughed harder.
“We were shot at, almost buried, and crossed a frozen river.”
“Yes.”
“This is the worst journey of my life.”
“That seems reasonable.”
“And somehow—”
She looked at him.
“I feel freer than I have in years.”
Caleb’s expression softened.
They reached Red Bluff shortly before sunset the next day.
Smoke rose from chimneys.
People walked streets.
A church bell rang.
Civilization.
Eleanor nearly cried at the sight.
Caleb guided her toward the marshal’s office.
But as they approached, he stopped.
“What?”
Caleb looked across the street.
A black carriage stood outside the hotel.
On its door was a silver crest.
Eleanor knew it.
Her father’s.
Then the hotel door opened.
Horace Ashcroft stepped outside.
Sixty years old.
Silver-haired.
Perfectly dressed.
Beside him stood Victor Harrow.
Eleanor went white.
Victor saw her.
His face transformed into a smile.
“There she is.”
Caleb stepped between them.
Victor’s smile widened.
“And you must be the mountain man.”
Eleanor whispered, “Caleb.”
He did not look away from Victor.
“Yes?”
“My father never comes himself.”
Caleb understood.
This was no longer a search.
They had walked directly into a trap.
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