"You complain when I don't."
"That's different."
"How?"
"I haven't decided yet."
This time he laughed quietly.
Hannah settled back beneath the blanket.
His hand found hers between them.
He did not take it.
He simply left his palm open.
After a moment, Hannah placed her hand inside it.
Outside, the storm buried the trail home.
Inside the line cabin, neither of them said another word.
They did not need to.
By morning, the storm had broken.
The world outside was white from ridge to creek bed.
Every fence post wore a cap of snow.
Every trail had been erased clean.
Nathan and Hannah rode back to Black Pine slowly, the horses breaking crust with each step.
They spoke little.
Once, when Daisy slipped on a buried rock, Nathan reached across and steadied Hannah by the elbow.
His hand stayed there only long enough to make sure she was balanced.
Then it was gone.
At the ranch house, Ben Shaw looked from Nathan to Hannah, then to Nathan's bad shoulder, then wisely asked only whether the upper herd was accounted for.
"116," Hannah said.
Nathan looked at her.
Ben nodded.
Nathan said nothing.
Later that evening, Hannah found a clean wool scarf folded on the back of her chair.
Nathan was outside.
She did not ask who had put it there.
For three days, the ranch settled into something almost gentle.
Nathan's shoulder improved.
Hannah returned to the books.
Their eyes met more often than before and broke away sooner.
At supper, their hands reached for the coffee pot at the same time.
Both stopped.
Nathan let go first.
Hannah poured for him.
Neither mentioned the cabin.
That fragile piece lasted until Calvin Mercer rode through the Black Pine gate.
He came just after noon with another man beside him and a leather case strapped behind his saddle.
The second rider was older, narrow-shouldered, with ink on two fingers and a county clerk's manner about him.
Nathan saw them from the barn.
He wiped his hands on a rag and walked toward the house.
Hannah was already on the porch.
Mercer dismounted.
His boots were polished despite the road.
"Nathan."
"Mercer."
Mercer removed his gloves.
"I'd rather conduct this inside."
Nathan did not move.
"You can conduct it here."
Mercer's eyes shifted toward Hannah.
"As you like."
The clerk opened the leather case.
Mercer took out a folded document.
"I have acquired the outstanding Black Pine note formerly held by Western Territorial Lending."
Nathan frowned.
"That bank failed two years ago."
"It did."
"Loan was nearly paid."
Mercer smiled faintly.
"Nearly is not paid."
Hannah stepped down from the porch.
"May I see the note?"
Mercer looked at her.
"This concerns Mr. Cole."
"Then he can tell me no."
Nathan held out his hand.
Mercer gave him the paper.
Nathan passed it directly to Hannah.
Mercer's smile thinned.
Hannah unfolded the document.
Old principal.
Accrued interest.
Penalty charges.
Additional fees.
Her eyes moved down the page, then back up.
"What is this?"
Mercer said, "A debt."
"This amount is wrong."
The clerk shifted.