At dawn the riders were gone.
But hoofprints remained.
Simon followed them half a mile.
Returned angry.
“What?”
“They’re marking routes.”
“For what?”
“If Sterling’s looking, he’s narrowing where you could be.”
Abigail’s stomach dropped.
“I should leave.”
“No.”
“You said you wouldn’t keep me.”
“I won’t.”
“Then I’m leaving.”
Simon stood.
“Where?”
She had no answer.
He continued.
“Town?”
“Sterling owns people in town.”
“Railroad?”
“He’ll watch it.”
“Your old home?”
“He owns the note.”
Abigail’s voice rose.
“I cannot make your cabin a target.”
Simon’s voice remained calm.
“It was already a target before you arrived.”
She stared.
“What does that mean?”
Simon looked away.
“Sterling and I don’t like each other.”
“Why?”
He hesitated.
Abigail saw it.
“There’s more.”
Simon sat.
Seven years earlier, after leaving Sterling’s mine, Simon testified in a territorial labor dispute.
Not dramatically.
Not heroically.
He simply told the truth about wage deductions and unsafe supports.
Sterling lost money.
The complaint did not destroy him.
Nothing so easy.
But Sterling remembered.
Men like Sterling remembered resistance longer than loyalty.
“You knew he might come after you.”
“Yes.”
“And you brought me here anyway?”
“You were freezing.”
“You could have taken me to town.”
“Storm would’ve killed you first.”
Abigail stared.
Simon added:
“And I wasn’t going to leave you under a tree because Sterling might dislike it.”
She began crying unexpectedly.
Simon froze.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing.”
Abigail covered her face.
“I’m tired.”
Simon moved closer.
Stopped.
“Can I?”
She looked at him through tears.
“Can you what?”
“Touch you.”
The simplicity of the question shattered the last piece of control she had.
Abigail nodded.
Simon sat beside her.
His arm came around her shoulders.
Carefully.
The bed dipped under their combined weight.
Abigail leaned against him.
She had forgotten how enormous he was.
His chest felt solid beneath her cheek.
His beard brushed her hair.
She cried harder.
Simon did not ask her to stop.
Did not say she was safe.
Did not promise everything would be fine.
He simply held her.
After a long while, Abigail whispered:
“I’m ashamed.”
“Of what?”
“Myself.”
Simon’s arm tightened slightly.
“Why?”
She looked down at her hands.
“My whole life people treated my body like evidence against me.”
Simon said nothing.
Abigail continued.
“When I was young, doctors spoke to my mother instead of me.”
“Dressmakers sighed before touching fabric.”
“Men joked when they thought I couldn’t hear.”
“Some didn’t bother waiting.”
She swallowed.
“Then Josiah became interested.”
Simon’s jaw tightened.
“And for a while I was grateful.”
Her voice broke.
“Imagine that.”
“Grateful that a man wanted me.”
Simon looked down at her.