He looked at her carefully.
She had changed.
Not smaller.
Winter had actually returned fullness to her face.
Her dress fit better after steady meals.
Her hair shone.
New boots.
Warm shawl.
She stood differently.
Shoulders back.
Amos noticed.
“You look well.”
Josie almost laughed.
“You look surprised.”
“I knew he'd feed you.”
Judson’s jaw tightened.
Josie glanced back.
He remained silent.
Good.
“Why are you here?”
Amos looked offended.
“I'm your father.”
“That was true in December too.”
One of the men behind him shifted.
Amos lowered his voice.
“Come home.”
“No.”
His face changed.
“Bargain was winter.”
“There was no bargain with me.”
“I’m your father.”
“Yes.”
“You do what I say.”
Josie stared.
Something extraordinary happened.
The sentence no longer frightened her.
Four months earlier it would have.
Now it merely sounded ridiculous.
“I’m twenty-two.”
“Unmarried.”
“Yes.”
“Living with a man.”
“Yes.”
His face reddened.
“You've shamed yourself enough.”
Judson moved.
Josie raised one hand without looking back.
He stopped.
Amos saw.
His eyes narrowed.
“You controlling him now?”
Josie smiled faintly.
“No.”
“That’s why he stopped.”
One man behind Amos almost laughed.
Amos ignored him.
“You're coming.”
“No.”
“I traded winter service.”
“No.”
“You ate his food.”
“Yes.”
“Slept under his roof.”
“Yes.”
“Then you owe him.”
“No.”
Amos pointed.
“He paid me!”
Judson finally spoke.
“I bought food.”
Amos turned.
“You bought her.”
Judson stepped from the porch.
The air changed.
“No.”
Amos backed slightly.
“You knew what I meant.”
“I knew what you meant.”
“And?”
“I refused to recognize it.”
“You took her.”
“I offered her somewhere to survive.”
“She came.”
“That was her choice.”
Amos laughed nervously.
“Choice?”
“She had nowhere else.”
Judson’s expression changed.
“That's exactly why I asked nothing from her.”
Silence.
Josie looked at him.
He had never said it so plainly.
Amos spit into the snowmelt.
“I want my daughter.”
Josie stepped down.
“You don't.”
Her father looked at her.
“You want whatever you think I can get you.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
Amos’s face became ugly.
“I kept you alive twenty-two years.”
“My mother kept me alive.”
“I worked.”
“You drank.”
One of the men looked away.
Amos stepped toward her.
Judson moved.
Josie remained still.
“Don't touch me.”
Amos stopped.
Perhaps because of her.
Perhaps because Judson stood behind.
She decided she did not care.
“You traded me for flour.”
“You would’ve starved!”
“So would you.”
“I did what I had to.”