Gideon saw her before she reached the cabin.
Abigail knew because smoke suddenly increased from the chimney.
He had added wood to the fire.
She smiled.
By the time Willow entered the clearing, Gideon stood outside.
He wore no hat.
Snow had gathered in his dark hair.
He looked thinner.
“Abigail.”
“Gideon.”
His eyes dropped to the bag tied behind her saddle.
Then back to her.
“You lost?”
“Possibly.”
“Town is downhill.”
“I remember.”
She dismounted.
Gideon remained where he was.
“You came alone?”
“Yes.”
“You shouldn’t ride this trail alone in winter.”
“There he is.”
“Who?”
“The man who immediately begins telling me what I should do.”
Gideon exhaled.
“I deserved that.”
“Yes.”
He took Willow’s reins.
“She still bites?”
“Only rude people.”
The mare immediately tried to bite him.
Abigail laughed.
Gideon looked offended.
“Traitor.”
Inside the cabin almost nothing had changed.
Rebecca’s room remained ready.
A fire burned.
Elk stew sat on the stove.
Abigail removed her coat.
Gideon noticed.
“You’re staying for supper?”
“If invited.”
“You don’t need invitations here.”
“That sounds dangerously close to assuming.”
He rubbed his jaw.
“This is complicated.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“How?”
Abigail sat.
“Ask me.”
“Ask what?”
“What I want.”
Gideon sat opposite her.
“All right.”
He looked suddenly more nervous than he had facing three armed attackers.
“What do you want?”
Abigail considered.
“I want Lawson House to continue.”
“What is Lawson House?”
She told him.
His expression changed.
“You opened a boarding house?”
“A refuge.”
“For women?”
“For anyone thrown away because powerful people decide their reputation matters more than truth.”
Gideon nodded slowly.
“Rebecca would have liked that.”
“I hoped so.”
“What else?”
“I want my father’s name remembered.”
“It will be.”
“I want Mercer convicted.”
“He will be.”
“And…”
She hesitated.
Gideon waited.
“I want this place to stop feeling like somewhere I escaped to.”
“What should it feel like?”
“A place I choose.”
His eyes lifted.
Abigail continued.
“I don’t want to belong to you.”
“You never did.”
“I know.”
“And?”
“I might want to belong with you.”
Gideon did not move.
For several seconds he appeared genuinely unable to speak.
Abigail smiled.
“Nothing?”
“I had several speeches prepared.”
“You prepared speeches?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He leaned back.
“I don’t know how to do this.”
“Neither do I.”
“I live on a mountain.”
“I noticed.”
“I disappear trapping for days.”
“I enjoy quiet.”
“I’m difficult.”
“Very.”
“I don’t dance.”
“That may be negotiable.”
“I snore.”
“Now we have a serious problem.”
He laughed.
Abigail had never heard him laugh fully.
It changed his entire face.
She realized then how young he could look when grief released him.
Gideon’s laughter faded.
“Abigail.”
“Yes?”
“If you stay here, you keep Lawson House.”
“Yes.”
“You keep your money.”
“Yes.”
“You make your own decisions.”
“Obviously.”
“If you decide tomorrow that this was a mistake—”
“I leave.”
He nodded.
“And if I decide next year?”
“You leave.”
“Ten years?”
His voice tightened but remained steady.
“You leave.”
Abigail’s eyes filled unexpectedly.
“Why?”
“Because love isn’t a locked door.”
The word hung between them.
Love.
Gideon looked as though he wished he could retrieve it.
Abigail saved him.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Because I love you too.”
He stared.
“You do?”
“You truly are terrible at this.”
“I wasn’t expecting—”
“What were you expecting?”
“I don’t know.”
“Perhaps me to faint?”
“No.”
“Cry?”
“No.”
“Run?”
“Maybe.”
She stood.
Gideon stood too.
Abigail stepped close.
“Ask.”
His voice became quiet.
“May I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
He did.
There was nothing dramatic about it.
No storm suddenly breaking.
No music.
No audience.
Only warmth beside a fire and two people who had spent their lives learning that love without choice was not love at all.
When they separated, Gideon rested his forehead against hers.
“You’re staying?”
“Tonight.”
He nodded.
“Tomorrow?”
“Ask tomorrow.”
The following morning brought trouble.
A rider arrived shortly after sunrise.
Territorial Marshal Henry Cole.
Gideon opened the door.
Cole removed his hat.
“Miss Lawson?”
Abigail stepped forward.
“Yes.”
“You’re needed in Denver.”
“Mercer?”
“Escaped custody.”
Gideon’s entire body hardened.
“When?”
“Last night.”
“How?”
“Guard was paid.”
Abigail felt cold.
“Where is he?”
“We don’t know.”
Cole hesitated.
“But we intercepted a telegram.”
He handed it over.
Gideon read first.
His jaw clenched.
Abigail took the page.
CROSS HAS WHAT I NEED. GIRL RETURNS THERE EVENTUALLY. WAIT UNTIL SHE DOES.
Her blood chilled.
“He knew.”
Gideon scanned the tree line.
Cole nodded.
“We believe Mercer hired two men before his arrest. They may already be nearby.”
Gideon reached for the Winchester.
Abigail stopped him.
“No.”
He stared.
“No?”
“We’re not waiting for another attack.”
“What do you suggest?”
“We end it.”
The plan was simple.
And dangerous.
Abigail rode into Oakhaven publicly that afternoon.
News of Mercer’s escape had spread.
She entered Lawson House.
Gideon was nowhere visible.
Neither were the marshals.
At dusk, someone knocked.
Abigail opened the door.
Josiah Mercer stood outside holding a revolver.
He looked terrible.
Unshaven.
Hollow-eyed.
Coat torn.
But the old arrogance remained.
“Hello, Abigail.”
She stepped backward.
Mercer entered.
He closed the door.
“You caused considerable inconvenience.”
“You murdered my father.”
“That was Yates.”
“You ordered it.”
“Prove that without his testimony.”
“He confessed.”
“Men change stories.”
Mercer pointed the revolver.
“Where is Cross?”
“Gone.”
“Lie.”
“He left.”
Mercer smiled.
“No. He loves you.”
Abigail said nothing.
His smile widened.
“You think I didn’t see it?”
“What do you want?”
“The original ledgers.”
“They’re in Denver.”
“Copies?”
“Also Denver.”
“You’re lying.”
“Again, no.”
Mercer’s calm disappeared.
He grabbed her arm.
The same arm Dorn had twisted weeks earlier.
This time Abigail did not panic.
She looked directly at him.
“You still don’t understand.”
“What?”
“You lost.”
Mercer laughed.
“I’m holding the gun.”
“Yes.”
“And nobody is coming.”
Abigail almost smiled.
“You said that before.”
Mercer realized one second too late.
Gideon’s voice came from the stairway.
“Let her go.”
Mercer turned.
Gideon stood above them.
No rifle.
Hands empty.
Mercer pointed the revolver at him.
“I wondered whether you’d hide.”
Gideon descended slowly.
“Let her go.”
“She ruined my life.”
“No.”
Gideon’s eyes remained on him.
“You did.”
Mercer shoved Abigail aside and aimed.
Marshals burst through the rear door.
“Drop it!”
Mercer spun.
Abigail moved.
She struck his wrist with a heavy brass candlestick.
The revolver fired into the ceiling.
Gideon crossed the room in two strides.
He drove Mercer to the floor.
For one terrible second Abigail saw murder in Gideon’s face.
Mercer saw it too.
“Do it,” Mercer gasped.
Gideon’s fist tightened.
“Gideon.”
Abigail’s voice stopped him.
He looked at her.
She shook her head.
“Don’t let him decide who you become.”
Gideon slowly released Mercer.
The marshals took over.
As Mercer was dragged outside, he looked back.
“No one will remember you, Abigail!”
She stood in the doorway.
Snow fell around them.
“My father will.”
Mercer disappeared into the wagon.
This time there was no escape.