The stranger’s brother had indeed died years earlier.
Records existed.
Witnesses.
The Mountain Man had been cleared after testimony established he intervened during an assault.
But the dead man’s family never accepted it.
The Mountain Woman listened.
Another piece of his life settling into place.
By dawn, the cabin was quiet again.
Broken window.
Damaged chair.
Blood cleaned from the floor.
Snow piled against the door.
The Sheriff left after promising a deputy would return.
The Rancher and his Wife took the Mountain Woman aside before leaving.
The Wife whispered:
“That man loves you.”
The Mountain Woman looked toward the Mountain Man.
He stood by the fireplace wrapping his own bruised hand.
“I know.”
The older woman smiled.
“Good.”
Then:
“He also needs help understanding furniture.”
The Mountain Woman frowned.
“What?”
“He breaks every chair in this valley.”
The Mountain Woman laughed.
The older woman kissed her cheek.
Then left.
The Mountain Woman closed the door.
Silence.
The Mountain Man looked toward her.
She looked at him.
Everything from the night returned.
The lap.
The kiss.
The gunshot.
The cellar.
Snow.
Fear.
His almost-proposal.
The Mountain Woman crossed the room.
The Mountain Man straightened.
She stopped inches away.
“You’re hurt.”
“Fine.”
“No.”
“Mostly fine.”
She touched the blood near his temple.
He winced.
“Sit.”
He obeyed.
That amused her.
She cleaned the cut.
His eyes remained on her face.
The Mountain Woman noticed.
“You’re staring again.”
“Yes.”
“At least you're honest.”
“Trying.”
She smiled.
The Mountain Man said:
“I meant what I said.”
The Mountain Woman’s hand stopped.
“Which part?”
He looked toward the floor.
“The snow.”
Her heart began pounding.
She resumed cleaning.
“You said many things in the snow.”
“The marriage part.”
She paused.
The Mountain Man continued before fear stopped him.
“I don’t know what marriage with me looks like.”
“Probably broken furniture.”
He smiled.
“Probably.”
“Bad manners.”
“Yes.”
“Too many scars.”
“Yes.”
“Excessive fur.”
He looked at the vest.
“Necessary.”
She laughed.
Then he became serious.
“I know danger doesn't vanish.”