The Mountain Man remained sitting until dawn.
After that, everything changed without changing.
Their hands touched more.
Sometimes deliberately.
The Young Woman brushed past him near the table.
He stopped stepping away quite so quickly.
She began studying his face openly.
The scar near his collar.
The gray appearing inside his beard.
The deep line beside his mouth.
One afternoon, she asked:
“How old are you?”
He looked suspicious.
“Why?”
“You answer every question like you’re being accused.”
“Habit.”
“How old?”
“Thirty-nine.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
“What?”
“You look older.”
The Mountain Man stared.
She laughed.
He almost smiled.
Then:
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
The Mountain Man paused.
“You’re young.”
“So everyone says.”
“I didn’t mean foolish.”
“You sounded like it.”
“I meant…”
He stopped.
The Young Woman moved closer.
“What?”
He looked down at her.
“Nothing.”
She smiled.
“You’re afraid of me.”
The Mountain Man actually laughed.
“No.”
“You are.”
He shook his head.
The Young Woman stepped closer.
He stopped laughing.
There.
She had been right.
Their bodies stood less than a foot apart.
The Young Woman whispered:
“Why?”
The Mountain Man’s eyes moved toward her mouth.
Then immediately away.
“That.”
She smiled faintly.
The first kiss almost happened beside the stove.
Almost.
She was stirring stew.
He reached behind her for salt.
Too close.
She turned.
Their faces stopped inches apart.
The Mountain Man froze.
The Young Woman felt his breath.
Her pulse jumped.
He stepped back.
Immediately.
She stared.
The Mountain Man picked up the salt.
Nothing happened.
That annoyed her unexpectedly.
“You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Leave.”
“I’m standing here.”
“You know what I mean.”
He looked at her.
She put down the spoon.
“You touch me only when I ask.”
“Yes.”
“You move away before I have to.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The Mountain Man’s jaw tightened.
“Because you spent your wedding night running from a man who didn’t.”
The Young Woman went silent.
He continued:
“I won’t become another room you need to escape.”
That sentence stayed inside her long after supper.
Two mornings later, the Mountain Man found tracks.
Three horses.
Fresh.
He stood on the ridge.
The Young Woman came outside carrying a blanket.
Saw his posture.
Stopped.
“They’re here.”
The Mountain Man nodded.
“How long?”