Caleb kept Eleanor on the floor until nearly a minute passed without another shot.
Then he moved.
Not recklessly.
Not like an angry man charging into danger.
Like someone who understood danger intimately.
He crawled beneath the window, reached the rifle near the hearth, and checked the chamber.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Eleanor.”
“If somebody is outside, you’re not walking into the dark alone.”
His eyes flashed.
“This isn’t the tavern.”
“I’m aware.”
“You could be killed.”
“So could you.”
“I can move faster if I’m not worrying about you.”
“And I can load a rifle.”
Caleb stared.
“You know how?”
“My father taught me.”
Something like pride appeared despite the danger.
He handed her his spare revolver instead.
“Stay behind the stove. If that door opens and it isn’t me, aim center.”
“Caleb—”
“I’ll circle through the back.”
He disappeared.
Eleanor knelt behind the iron stove, pulse hammering.
The cabin seemed suddenly enormous.
Every sound became suspicious.
Wind.
Snow sliding from the roof.
A horse shifting in the barn.
Then shouting.
Eleanor stood.
Another gunshot exploded outside.
She ran toward the door despite every instruction Caleb had given her.
When she reached the porch, she saw him near the trees.
A man was fleeing downhill.
Caleb fired into the air.
The man vanished.
Caleb started after him.
“Caleb!”
He stopped.
Eleanor did not know whether it was fear in her voice or simple reason that brought him back.
He returned breathing hard.
“Did you see him?”
“Dark coat. Small horse.”
“Rutherford?”
“No.”
“Then we don’t know who it was.”
Caleb looked toward the shattered window.
“I know who benefits.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“No accusations without proof.”
He clenched his jaw.
“You’re asking me to ignore somebody shooting at my home?”
“I’m asking you not to give Fletcher Rutherford a weapon he can use against you.”
Caleb looked at her.
Then down at the revolver still in her hand.
“Were you going to come after me with that?”
“Yes.”
“You should have stayed inside.”
“You should have stayed inside.”
For one absurd second, they stared at each other.
Then Caleb laughed.
An actual laugh.
Low and rough.
Eleanor stared.
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Possibly.”
“Someone shot through our window.”
“I know.”
“And you’re laughing?”
“You are standing barefoot in the snow arguing with me while holding a revolver.”
Eleanor looked down.
She had forgotten her shoes.
“Don’t say anything.”
His smile widened.
It transformed him.
The Mountain Wolf vanished.
In his place stood a man who might once have laughed easily.
Eleanor’s anger disappeared.
She smiled too.
Then she began trembling.
Caleb noticed instantly.
He took the gun from her.
His other arm went around her.
This time he did not need to ask.
She stepped into him.
For several moments they simply stood beneath the falling snow, holding each other while broken glass glittered behind them.
The next morning, Caleb found a spent cartridge near the tree line.
No identifying mark.
No proof.
Still, they rode to Silver Hollow.
It was the first time Eleanor had returned since leaving.
People stared when they entered the Ridgeline Tavern together.
Margaret rushed from behind the counter.
“Ellie!”
She hugged Eleanor hard.
Then stepped back.
“You look…”
Eleanor raised an eyebrow.
“Larger?”
Margaret rolled her eyes.
“Happy.”
That word startled Eleanor.
She glanced toward Caleb.
He was watching her.
Apparently it startled him too.
Margaret noticed.
Her smile became knowing.
Eleanor immediately changed the subject.
“Someone shot at the cabin.”
Margaret’s smile vanished.
“What?”
They explained.
Within the hour, Sheriff Daniel Mercer arrived.
He examined the spent cartridge and listened carefully.
“You suspect Rutherford?”
“Yes,” Caleb said.
“We suspect whoever benefits,” Eleanor corrected.
Mercer glanced between them.
“Any enemies besides Rutherford?”
Caleb considered.
“Depends how broadly we define enemy.”
“People who might shoot through your window.”
“That narrows it.”
Despite himself, the sheriff smiled.
“I’ll ask questions.”
Rutherford entered the tavern before they finished.
His eyes immediately found Caleb.
Then Eleanor.
“I heard there was trouble on the mountain.”
Too quickly.
Eleanor noticed.
So did Mercer.
“Where did you hear that?” the sheriff asked.
Rutherford stopped.
“Travelers talk.”
“We rode straight here this morning.”
Fletcher smiled.
“News travels faster than horses.”
Caleb took a step.
Eleanor caught his sleeve.
Rutherford saw.
His gaze lingered on her hand.
Interesting.
“Caleb thinks I shot at him?” Fletcher asked.
“I didn’t say that,” Caleb replied.
“You didn’t have to.”
Rutherford turned toward Mercer.
“I was at my home all evening. My foreman and two guests can confirm it.”
“Convenient,” Eleanor said.
Fletcher looked at her.
“Mrs. Morgan, you’ve become surprisingly protective for a temporary bride.”
The tavern went silent.
Caleb’s entire body hardened.
Eleanor’s stomach dropped.
Fletcher smiled slowly.
Then he removed a folded paper from his coat.
A copy.
Not the original.
Their contract.
Caleb lunged.
Sheriff Mercer stepped between them.
“Caleb!”
“Where did you get that?”
Rutherford held the paper safely away.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes,” Eleanor said.
Her voice cut through the room.
Everyone turned toward her.
She approached Fletcher.
“Where did you obtain a private legal document?”
“That sounds like a question for your husband.”
“I am asking you.”
For the first time, Rutherford appeared uncertain.
“Documents circulate.”
“Not that one.”
Margaret came around the bar.
“Did you break into their cabin?”
Rutherford laughed.
“Of course not.”
“Then who gave it to you?” Eleanor demanded.
“No idea. It arrived.”
“How convenient.”
Sheriff Mercer extended his hand.
“Give me the paper.”
Rutherford hesitated.
That was enough.
Mercer’s eyes narrowed.
“Now.”
Fletcher handed it over.
The sheriff studied it.
The room began murmuring.
Eleanor heard fragments.
Paid marriage.
Three months.
Two hundred dollars.
Fake.
She felt every old humiliation trying to return.
The same whispers that followed her weight.
Her poverty.
Her eviction.
Now they had something new.
Caleb moved beside her.
“Anybody who has something to say can say it to me.”
Eleanor touched his arm.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“I can speak for myself.”
Then she faced the tavern.
“Yes. Caleb offered me money.”
Silence.
“Yes, we married because of a contract.”
Someone gasped.
“And yes, the agreement was originally intended to last three months.”
Walter Pike smirked.
“So Rutherford’s right.”
Eleanor looked directly at him.
“No.”
The smirk faded.
“The marriage is legal. I live in Caleb’s home. I manage that household. We work together. We eat together. We protect each other.”
She glanced toward Caleb.
“What began as an agreement is nobody’s permission to decide what it has become.”
Caleb’s expression changed.
Rutherford noticed.
“You’re performing,” Fletcher said.
Eleanor looked back at him.
“Then you should be worried. I’ve always been stubborn about finishing a job.”
Several people laughed.
Rutherford did not.
He turned to Caleb.
“Enjoy the performance. March third, the probate board sees that contract.”
Then he left.
Eleanor remained still until the door closed.
Only then did she exhale.
Caleb took her hand.
Not secretly.
Not beneath a table.
In front of everyone.
That mattered.
Sheriff Mercer folded the copied contract.
“I’ll look into how Rutherford obtained this.”
Margaret leaned toward Eleanor.
“Where’s your original?”
“Safe.”
Caleb’s eyes moved to Eleanor.
She still carried it inside her coat.
After finishing with the sheriff, they visited Caleb’s attorney, Samuel Bennett.
Bennett looked deeply unhappy.
“This document complicates matters.”
“Does it invalidate the marriage?” Eleanor asked.
“No.”
“Does the will require romantic love?”
“No.”
“Does it prohibit payment?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Bennett sighed.
“Consolidated will argue that Caleb created the appearance of a household solely to defeat the transfer clause. The trustees may consider intent.”
Caleb leaned forward.
“What exactly must I prove?”
“That you are legally married and maintaining a legitimate marital household at the time of review.”
Eleanor frowned.
“We are.”
“I believe you.”
“Then why should Rutherford’s opinion matter?”
“Because he has money. Money buys lawyers. Lawyers create doubt.”
Eleanor understood that painfully well.
Bennett continued.
“There’s another problem.”
Caleb stiffened.
“What?”
“The review date moved.”
“To when?”
“March tenth.”
Eleanor’s heart sank.
Their agreement ended March fourth.
Six days earlier.
Fletcher had discovered the gap.
That was why he looked so confident.
Caleb turned toward her.
Immediately Eleanor understood what he was thinking.
“You can extend the contract,” Bennett offered.
“No,” Caleb said.
Eleanor stared.
The lawyer blinked.
“Caleb—”
“No.”
“You could lose North Slope.”
“I promised her three months.”
Eleanor felt the room tilt.
Bennett looked from Caleb to her.
“Surely Mrs. Morgan might voluntarily agree—”
“She can decide whatever she wants. But I’m not changing terms because I need something.”
Caleb stood.
“We’re finished.”
Outside, Eleanor followed him toward the horses.
“Caleb.”
He stopped.
“You’re willing to lose the land?”
“I’m willing to keep my word.”
“What if I agree to stay?”
“That is different.”
“What if I don’t?”
His face became unreadable.
“Then you leave with your two hundred dollars on March fourth.”
“And you lose North Slope.”
“Possibly.”
“That doesn’t make you angry?”
“Yes.”
“At me?”
His answer came instantly.
“No.”
Eleanor swallowed.
“Why?”
“Because you were never property I bought for the winter.”
The words hit something deep inside her.
Caleb stepped closer.
“I hired your help. I asked for your name. I asked you to share my house.”
His voice roughened.
“I never bought you.”
Eleanor’s eyes burned.
“What if I want to stay?”
His expression shifted.
“Until the review?”
She could hear the fear hidden beneath the question.
Eleanor did not know how to answer.
Because staying until March tenth was easy.
The dangerous question was whether she wanted to stay after.
Before she could speak, Margaret came running from the tavern.
“Eleanor!”
They turned.
She carried an envelope.
“This came for you two weeks ago. I forgot with everything happening.”
Eleanor took it.
The handwriting was familiar.
Her uncle Gerald’s.
She tore it open.
Inside were only three sentences.
Your father’s house is being sold in February.
If you want anything left inside, collect it before then.
After the sale, you have no further claim.
Eleanor stared at the page.
Caleb read it over her shoulder.
His jaw tightened.
“When do we leave?”
She looked at him.
“For where?”
“To get your house back.”
---