“Take the bed.”
She did.
Mostly because she was too exhausted to argue.
Judson turned his back while she changed behind the timber divider.
She wore the same chemise she had slept in for years.
Patched.
Too tight in places.
She climbed beneath the quilt.
The mattress was soft.
Clean.
Warm.
A sob nearly escaped her.
She swallowed it.
Across the room, Judson extinguished one lamp.
Then lay near the fire.
Josie listened.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Twenty.
He did not move toward her.
Eventually she whispered:
“Judson?”
“Yes.”
“You awake?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re still awake.”
She frowned into darkness.
“You can tell?”
“You breathe differently.”
That felt too intimate.
She became quiet.
Then:
“Are you afraid of me?”
Judson laughed once.
“No.”
“Do you find me ugly?”
The silence that followed felt enormous.
Josie immediately regretted asking.
Then Judson answered.
“No.”
She closed her eyes.
“You hesitated.”
“I was deciding whether answering would make things worse.”
“How?”
“If I say no, you may think I’m lying.”
“Are you?”
“No.”
“If I say more, you may think I expect something.”
Josie opened her eyes.
The fire outlined his body on the floor.
“What more?”
Judson shifted.
“Sleep.”
“That is not an answer.”
“No.”
“Coward.”
He laughed again.
“Probably.”
Josie smiled into the pillow.
It was the first time she had smiled that day.
Morning came with snow against the window.
Judson was already outside.
Josie woke disoriented.
For several seconds she did not know where she was.
Then memory returned.
Trading post.
Horse.
Stew.
Bed.
She sat.
Her first instinct was fear.
Had Judson left?
Would he return different in daylight?
She dressed quickly.
The blue dress from the store hung near the fire.
He had cleaned most of the mud from the hem.
That unsettled her more than it should have.
Outside, she found him splitting wood.
Without the fur coat, Judson looked even larger.
Dark shirt stretched across his shoulders.
Hair tied back.
Axe rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
Josie stood on the porch.
Judson glanced up.
“Morning.”
“You washed my dress.”
“Snow.”
“What?”
“Used snow.”
“Why?”
“It was dirty.”
Josie stared.
Judson lowered the axe.
“Did I commit some offense?”
“No.”
“You look offended.”
“I’m confused.”
“That appears common around me.”
She almost smiled.
Then looked at the woodpile.
“I can help.”
“No need.”
“I didn’t ask whether there was need.”
He raised an eyebrow.
Good.
She had surprised him.
Josie stepped into the snow.
“I can carry.”
Judson looked at her shoes.
“You can freeze too.”
She ignored him.
Picked up three pieces of split wood.
Carried them inside.
Returned.
Judson watched.
“What?”