The stranger continued.
“You took something from us.”
The Mountain Man finally answered.
“You lost it.”
The man laughed.
“Same difference.”
“No.”
A pause.
Then:
“Open the door before we decide she belongs in the conversation.”
The Mountain Woman saw the Mountain Man’s jaw lock.
Now she understood why he wanted her gone.
Not because danger was imaginary.
Because danger had learned her name.
The Mountain Man’s voice dropped.
“If one of you comes near her…”
The man outside laughed.
“There he is.”
Silence.
“That’s the man we remember.”
The Mountain Woman suddenly understood something.
They wanted anger.
They wanted the Mountain Man to become the story everyone already believed.
They wanted him outside.
Maybe exposed.
Maybe reckless.
Maybe easy to provoke.
She stepped from the hallway.
The Mountain Man looked at her with fury.
Not toward her.
Because she had exposed herself.
The voice outside reacted immediately.
“Well.”
The Mountain Woman approached the Mountain Man.
He whispered:
“Go back.”
“No.”
“Woman.”
She ignored him.
Then raised her voice toward the door.
“You fired at the cabin?”
Silence outside.
One man laughed.
“She talks.”
The Mountain Woman replied:
“Better than you think.”
The Mountain Man looked at her.
The first man called:
“This doesn’t concern you.”
The Mountain Woman looked around the cabin.
“My roof.”
“My windows.”
“My evening.”
“Feels fairly concerning.”
The Mountain Man almost looked exasperated.
Even now.
The man outside said:
“You know what kind of man you’re standing beside?”
The Mountain Woman answered immediately.
“Yes.”
“You know what he did?”
“Which version?”
Silence.
She continued.
“The one told by frightened drunks?”
“The one told by men who lost fights they started?”
“Or the one told by people who only whisper because speaking clearly might make them responsible for their own choices?”
The Mountain Man turned toward her.
Something like pride moved through his face.
The stranger outside became angry.
“You think he’s gentle?”
The Mountain Woman glanced at the Mountain Man.
Then at the heavy chair where he had gripped both armrests rather than touch her without certainty.
“Yes.”
The man outside laughed.
That was his mistake.
The Mountain Woman did not.
Neither did the Mountain Man.
The stranger continued.
“He killed my brother.”
The room changed.
The Mountain Woman looked at the Mountain Man.
He did not deny it.
Her stomach tightened.
The man outside shouted:
“Ask him.”
The Mountain Woman did.