From where he sat, he could still make out the tracks the horses had left across the snow. 14 sets down the slope. Then back up again, clean, certain. You could have told them to stay away, he said. You could have trusted me to handle it.
I thought about it. Nia turned toward him calmly. But I also remembered your face the first time Vance Crow came here. I remembered how you stood in the yard between him and the door. Her voice stayed quiet.
And I thought you were the kind of man who would stand there whether you were sick or healthy and never ask anyone for help. The words settled between them as softly as falling snow. My father would have said that a man who refuses help can never truly be helped. He usually said it about his patience. A faint trace of humor touched her voice.
But I think it applies to you too. Klay sat with that for a moment. What do I owe them? Clayor asked. Nothing.
Nia answered without hesitation. They came because they chose to come. She held his gaze the same way I did. Clay looked at her for a long time. The winter sun was weak and cold, but it lit her face more clearly than any lamp inside the cabin ever had.
Every feature seemed sharper in that light. Her eyes were dark and deep, like still water beneath shadow. They had been sharing the same life for nearly two months now. In that time, Klay had seen her work until exhaustion. He had seen her grieve without making a sound.
He had watched her teach with patience and stand firm when almost anyone else would have walked away. He knew the rhythm of her patience. He knew the exact movement of her hands when she was certain of something. He had learned the difference between the silence that meant she was at peace and the silence that meant she was thinking hard. He knew her, and that was no small thing.
"You said you'd decide when spring came." "Yes, spring isn't here yet." A faint smile touched Nia's mouth. "Not yet," then she added. "But I started deciding back in November."
Clay did not ask what she had decided. He was not ready to hear the answer. Nia understood that, so she gave him time. Clay was grateful for it. She gave him space the way a patient person approaches a wild animal that has only just begun to trust.