I suppose so. Tala looked around the dilapidated cabin, then at Sajaya, then at Kate. Something like a sad smile crossed her face. Three strangers, all with nowhere to go, all rejected. And yet, she extended her hands toward the fire.
Here we are. Alive? Sia repeated softly. Kate nodded slowly. Alive.
And while winter lasts, this cabin be shelter for the three of us if you want. The two women looked at each other. Kate saw fear in their eyes, but also something else. Hope fragile as the morning ice, but real. For how long?
Ta asked cautiously. Until the snow melts. Until it is safe to travel. After that, Kate shrugged. After that, everyone goes their own way.
But even as he said the words, a part of him wondered if it would be that simple. One week passed then, too. The Montana winter was in no hurry to leave. Kate had made the trip to town three times already, each time risking the deep snow to buy supplies. He brought flour, beans, coffee, blankets, nails, and fabric for the windows.
He spent almost all the money he had saved working at the ranch. Tala noticed "You don't have to do this," she told him one afternoon as he unloaded his latest purchase. "You've done enough. The cabin needs repairs," Kate replied simply. "We can't spend the winter with holes in the roof.
But your money, money always comes back. I'll work at another ranch in spring. There is always work for a cowboy. What?" What he didn't say was that he no longer thought about leaving in spring. Not yet.
Perhaps because the cabin was feeling less like a temporary refuge and more like something else. The next three weeks fell into a rhythm. Kate worked on repairing the cabin during the day. Tala and Sajaya, recovering from their terrible experience, began to help. At first, it was small things.
Sajaya cooked what Kate brought. Her hands were skilled with the herbs and spices he bought. A simple bean soup became something delicious under her care. Tala was more practical. She helped Kate with the repairs.
She held boards while he nailed. She mixed mud to seal cracks. She was strong, stronger than Kate expected. And she did not fear hard work. In my tribe, women built the houses, she explained one day while they worked on the roof.
The men hunted, we built. So, I know how to do this. You're good at it, Kate admitted, impressed by how she had sealed a particularly difficult crack. Tala smiled. It was the first real smile Kate had seen from her.
It transformed her face, softening the hard lines of distrust she always wore. "You aren't bad either for a cowboy," she replied with a glint of humor in her eyes. "Little by little, the cabin transformed. The holes in the roof were patched. The windows were covered with waxed cloth that let in light but blocked the wind.
The floor was repaired. Kate even managed to fix the old bed, replacing the rotten planks with new wood. For you two, he insisted when Tala protested. I'll sleep near the fire. I'm used to it.
The nights were the best. After a day of work, the three sat around the fire. Sajaya cooked. They ate together and they talked. At first, the conversations were cautious, superficial, but over time they deepened.
Kate told them about growing up in an orphanage, about never knowing his parents, about deciding that if he had no family, then the open road would be his home. I never stayed in one place for more than a few months, he admitted. I always thought putting down roots meant being trapped. Now I'm not so sure. Sajaya shared her story about marrying young to a man who seemed kind but changed when children didn't arrive, about the years of guilt and shame, and finally accepting that perhaps she would never be a mother and how that acceptance had somehow freed her.
I am not less of a woman because I cannot have children, she said with a soft but firm voice. I am worth what I am, not what my body can or cannot do. You are right, Kate said sincerely. You are worth a lot, Sajaya. She lowered her gaze, blushing but smiled.
Tala spoke less about her past, but when she did, it was with fire in her eyes. About questioning when others obeyed. About defending the weak when others looked away. About believing that traditions must evolve, not remain stagnant. My grandmother told me I was born in the wrong time, Tala said one night.
That I should have been born in the future when women could speak freely. Maybe you were born in the right time, Kate suggested to help create that future. Tala looked at him, surprised, then thoughtful. Maybe. As the weeks passed, something changed between them.
The cabin no longer seemed like a temporary shelter shared by strangers. It felt like a home. Small, modest, but theirs. They shared tasks without discussion. Kate hunted when the weather permitted, bringing rabbits and occasionally a deer.
Tala gathered edible herbs and roots she knew from her Apache upbringing. Sajaya cooked and kept the fire. Everyone cleaned. Everyone repaired. Everyone contributed.
One afternoon while Kate and Tala worked together building a small shed to protect more firewood. She stopped and looked at the cabin. This is strange, she said pensively. What is? Two months ago I was dying in the snow, rejected by my own people.
Now I am building a home with a white cowboy who owes me nothing. She shook her head amazed. Life is unpredictable. Do you regret it? Kate asked.
Regret it? Tala looked him directly in the eye. Kate, you saved my life. You saved us. And not only that, you treated us with respect as equals.
My own tribe never gave me that. She paused. No, I do not regret it. For the first time in years, I feel free. Kate felt something warm expand in his chest.
I feel different too. I never thought staying in one place could feel this good. Their gazes met. For a moment, something passed between them. A connection neither was ready to name.
Sajaya called them from the cabin. Dinner is ready. The moment passed, but it left something behind. A seed planted that night. While eating Sajaya's delicious stew, Kate looked at the two women sitting beside him.