Mae slept with a chair wedged beneath the bedroom doorknob.
The bolt Gideon had promised was real.
So was the lock.
She checked both three times.
Samuel slept in the old cradle beside her bed, his cheeks pink from warmth and his tiny fists resting near his chin.
Mae remained awake.
Every sound made her stiffen.
Logs settling.
Wind pushing against the shutters.
The crackling fire beyond the wall.
Once, footsteps crossed the main room.
Mae sat upright.
They stopped outside her door.
She reached beneath the mattress for the small kitchen knife she had hidden earlier.
Then Gideon’s voice came quietly through the wood.
“More firewood’s stacked by the stove if you wake before me.”
His footsteps moved away.
Mae waited.
Nothing followed.
Eventually exhaustion won.
When she woke, sunlight shone through the small window.
For one terrifying second, she did not know where she was.
Then Samuel gurgled from the cradle.
Mae sprang up.
He was smiling.
The sound hit her harder than expected.
Her son had not woken smiling often in Misery Bend.
Their rooms had been cold.
Silas had hated crying.
Mae used to wake before Samuel each morning and pray he would remain quiet long enough for her to heat water.
Here, Samuel kicked beneath a clean blanket.
Mae picked him up and kissed his forehead.
“Good morning, little man.”
The cabin smelled of coffee and bacon.
Mae cautiously entered the main room.
Gideon stood at the stove.
His buffalo coat was gone.
Without it he looked no less formidable. He wore a dark wool shirt stretched over broad shoulders, suspenders, and worn trousers tucked into heavy boots.
His sleeves were rolled up.
Scars crossed his forearms.
Some were old.
One looked like a bite.
Mae quickly stopped staring.
Gideon placed a plate on the table.
“Eat.”
She hesitated.
“I can cook.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you—”
“Because breakfast is ready.”
Mae sat.
There were eggs.
Bacon.
Biscuits.
Apple preserves.
She stared at the food.
Gideon noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Mae.”
She looked up.
His voice was not impatient.
Just direct.
Mae swallowed.
“Silas usually ate first.”
Understanding slowly entered Gideon’s eyes.
He pulled out the other chair.
“Not here.”
Mae cut into a biscuit.
She had eaten half of it when Samuel reached for her plate.
Gideon watched him.
“He eats solids?”
“A little.”
Gideon mashed part of an egg with his fork.
“Egg?”
Mae nodded cautiously.
He pushed the small plate toward her.
Samuel grabbed at it.
For several minutes, the only sound was the baby making pleased noises.
Gideon almost smiled.
Almost.
Mae noticed.
“Why do you have a cradle?”
His expression closed immediately.
“My sister had a daughter.”
“Had?”
Gideon stood.
The conversation was finished.
He carried his cup toward the window.
Mae regretted asking.
After breakfast, Gideon showed her the property.
The cabin sat in a wide clearing surrounded by pines. A creek ran nearby but had begun freezing along the edges.
The barn held two mules, a horse, chickens, feed, tools, and an enormous stack of hay.
There was enough food stored underground to survive months.
Gideon had prepared for isolation.
“Winter comes early here,” he explained. “Some storms close the trail for weeks.”
Mae looked toward the mountains.
“So we could be trapped.”
“Yes.”
The simple answer unsettled her.
“Are you planning to keep me here?”
Gideon stopped walking.
“No.”
“Then how do I leave?”
“When you’re ready, I take you wherever you choose.”
“Even back to town?”
A muscle tightened in his jaw.
“If that’s what you want.”
She studied him.
“You’d lose your hundred dollars.”
“It was already lost the moment I handed it to Silas.”
“Then why pay it?”
Gideon looked at Samuel.
“Because Cutter was going to win.”
Mae’s skin crawled.
“You know Jeb?”
“I know enough.”
The answer was final.
They reached a small shed behind the cabin.
Gideon stopped Mae before she opened it.
“Not that one.”
She withdrew her hand.
“What’s inside?”
“Things I don’t want the boy near.”
“Weapons?”
“Some.”
Something in his voice suggested more.
Mae did not press.
When they returned to the cabin, Gideon placed a folded piece of paper on the table.
“What’s that?”
“Agreement.”
Mae did not touch it.
“What agreement?”
“You stay until spring if you want. You help with cooking, mending, preserving food, whatever you’re comfortable doing. In return, you and Samuel get room, meals, and wages.”
“Wages?”
“Fifteen dollars a month.”
Mae stared.
Silas had never allowed her to keep fifteen cents without questioning where she got it.
“You paid one hundred for us and now you’re paying me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Work should be paid.”
Mae gave a small, disbelieving laugh.
Gideon watched her.
“Something funny?”
“No. Just strange.”
“What part?”
“All of it.”
He looked almost offended.
Mae pointed at the paper.
“What happens in spring?”
“You decide.”
“Decide what?”
“Where to go.”
“And if I want to leave tomorrow?”
“I take you down tomorrow.”
Mae’s eyes narrowed.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
That startled her.
Gideon continued.
“I expect you to watch what I do until you decide what to believe.”
For the first time since coming to the mountains, Mae had no answer.
Days passed.
Then a week.
Gideon kept every promise.
He never entered her bedroom.
Never raised his voice.
Never demanded affection.
When passing her in tight spaces, he stepped aside.
When Samuel cried at night, Gideon sometimes added wood to the fire but never knocked unless Mae called.
Mae began cooking because doing nothing made her restless.
Gideon ate everything without complaint.
The first time she baked bread, he stood in the doorway staring at the loaf.
“What?”
“Haven’t smelled that in a long time.”
“Bread?”
“Someone baking it.”
Mae did not ask further.
Samuel became fascinated with Gideon.
That surprised them both.
One morning, the baby crawled across the rug directly toward him.
Gideon froze.
Mae was kneading dough.
“Looks like he found you.”
Gideon stared at Samuel as though confronted by a wild animal.
Samuel grabbed his boot.
“Now what?” Gideon asked.
Mae laughed before she could stop herself.
The sound startled her.
Gideon looked at her.
Then Samuel pulled himself upright using Gideon’s trouser leg.
Gideon bent slowly and lifted him.
Mae stopped kneading.
Gideon held Samuel too carefully, arms rigid, terror visible beneath his beard.
“You can breathe,” Mae said.
“I am.”
“You look like you’re carrying dynamite.”
“I prefer dynamite.”
Samuel grabbed Gideon’s beard.
Hard.
Gideon winced.
Mae laughed again.
This time Gideon smiled.
It transformed his entire face.
For one moment, the frightening mountain man disappeared.
Then a gunshot cracked outside.
Gideon’s smile vanished.
He handed Samuel to Mae instantly.
“Bedroom.”
“What happened?”
“Now.”
The tone frightened her more than shouting would have.
Mae grabbed Samuel and hurried inside.
Gideon took his rifle.
Through a crack in the doorway, Mae saw him move toward the porch.
Another gunshot echoed.
Then a voice.
“Hale!”
Gideon stepped outside.
Mae pressed close to the window.
A rider had stopped near the barn.
The man wore a deputy’s badge.
Mae recognized him.
Thomas Pike.
One of the few men in Misery Bend who had not laughed during the auction.
“Hale,” Pike called again. “Need to talk.”
Gideon lowered his rifle slightly.
“Talk.”
Pike looked toward the cabin.
“Is she here?”
Gideon did not answer.
Mae’s pulse quickened.
Pike dismounted.
“Silas Walker says you stole his wife and child.”
Mae nearly laughed from shock.
Pike continued.
“He says the auction was a joke. Claims you assaulted him and took Mae against her will.”
Gideon’s voice remained flat.
“You believe him?”
“No.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because Silas spent your hundred dollars in eight days.”
Gideon’s expression darkened.
Pike removed his hat.
“And now he wants another hundred.”
Mae closed her eyes.
Of course.
Gideon asked, “Why does that concern me?”
“Because he’s telling every drunk between here and Leadville that you kidnapped his property.”
Gideon’s jaw tightened.
Pike continued.
“He’s also been meeting with Cutter.”
At the mention of Jeb, Mae’s breath stopped.
Gideon went still.
“What does Cutter want?”
“Same thing he wanted at the auction.”
Mae felt sick.
Pike looked toward the cabin again.
“There’s more.”
Gideon waited.
“Silas claims the boy may not be his.”
Mae’s hand flew to her mouth.
It was a lie.
An ugly, ridiculous lie.
Samuel was Silas’s son.
But Pike’s next words were worse.
“He says if Hale doesn’t pay, he’ll take the woman back and sell the baby separately.”
Something slammed against the cabin wall.
Gideon had driven his fist into the logs.
Samuel began crying.
Mae hurried away from the window.
Seconds later Gideon entered.
He stopped when he saw her.
“You heard.”
“Yes.”
“I won’t let him take either of you.”
Mae’s laugh came sharp and frightened.
“You can’t promise that.”
“Yes.”
“He is still legally my husband.”
Gideon’s eyes hardened.
“A husband doesn’t auction his wife.”
“Courts may not care.”
“I care.”
Mae rocked Samuel.
“That won’t matter to a judge.”
“No.”
Gideon’s voice became quiet.
“But evidence might.”
Mae looked up.
“What evidence?”
Gideon hesitated.
Then he walked to a locked wooden chest near the hearth.
He opened it.
Inside were documents.
Letters.
A ledger.
And a small silver badge.
Mae stared at it.
Gideon placed the badge on the table.
“What is that?”
He looked at her.
“Before I came to Blackstone Ridge, I worked for a federal marshal.”
Mae’s mouth opened.
Gideon continued.
“I stopped because of what happened to my sister.”
“The one whose cradle is here?”
“Yes.”
Mae waited.
He closed his eyes briefly.
“My sister’s husband was a gambler.”
Mae suddenly understood why Gideon had looked at Silas with such hatred.
“He sold things that belonged to her. Beat her. Took their daughter when she tried to leave.”
Mae’s stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
“My sister came to me too late.”
Gideon stared at the floor.
“I found her dead.”
Mae could barely breathe.
“And her daughter?”
“Missing.”
The cabin seemed colder.
“How long ago?”
“Five years.”
Mae looked at the cradle.
That was why it remained.
Gideon had never stopped waiting.
He pushed the ledger toward her.
“I’ve been collecting information about men operating through Misery Bend. Gambling debts. Illegal sales. Women being transported between camps. Cutter’s involved.”
Mae stared at him.
“You think Jeb sells women?”
“I know he does.”
“And Silas?”
“I didn’t know where he fit until your auction.”
Suddenly Gideon’s hundred dollars looked very different.
Mae felt anger rise.
“So that’s why you bought me. You needed evidence.”
“No.”
His answer came immediately.
“I paid because Cutter was about to take you.”
“But now you think I’m useful.”
Gideon’s face tightened.
“I think Silas may have information that could help me find people who hurt my sister.”
Mae took a step back.
The safety she had begun to feel cracked.
“People?”
“Cutter is not working alone.”
A knock hit the door.
Three heavy strikes.
Gideon reached for his rifle.
Pike had already left.
No one else should have been on the mountain.
The knock came again.
Then a familiar voice carried through the door.
“Mae!”
Her blood turned cold.
Silas.
Gideon moved toward the entrance.
Mae grabbed his sleeve before thinking.
He stopped instantly.
“Don’t.”
Gideon looked at her hand, then at her face.
“What do you want me to do?”
The question nearly broke her.
Silas pounded again.
“Mae! Come out! Your husband came to take you home!”
Samuel began crying.
Mae looked at her son.
Then toward the locked door.
For years she had obeyed Silas because she believed survival required it.
But for the first time, another man was not telling her what to do.
He was asking.
Mae slowly released Gideon’s sleeve.
She straightened.
Then she said the words she had dreamed of saying for three years.
“I want him gone.”
Gideon picked up his rifle.
“All right.”
And walked toward the door.
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