At her.
"All right."
That simple answer unsettled her more than an argument might have.
He gathered his horse's reins.
"Where are you planning to sleep, Miss Whitaker?"
Hannah looked toward the road where her brothers had vanished, then toward Pine Hollow.
Snow landed on the lid of the heavy trunk and melted against the dark wood.
Nathan waited.
He did not tell her what she ought to do. He did not call her foolish.
He did not ask why two men had left their sister beside a mountain road with darkness coming.
Hannah rested her gloved hand on the trunk.
"My brothers owned the wagon," she said.
Nathan's face changed slightly.
"They own the ranch now, too."
His eyes moved once more toward the tracks.
Hannah lifted her chin.
"And before you ask why I'm guarding this thing like it's gold, I'll save you the trouble."
She tightened her hand around the worn leather handle.
"That one holds the only proof I ever mattered on that ranch."
Nathan Cole looked at the trunk, then back at her.
He did not ask what was inside.
That surprised Hannah.
Most men she knew would have asked at once. Some would have laughed.
Samuel would have told her she was being dramatic.
Peter would have found a reason to study his boots.
Nathan only nodded.
"Then you carry that one."
He turned toward his horse.
Hannah stood still a moment.
Snow had begun to collect along the shoulders of his dark coat.
The daylight was nearly gone now, flattening the road and timber into shades of gray.
"You said Pine Hollow was three miles."
"It is."
"And the room over Keller's store might be full."
"Usually is when the weather turns."
Hannah looked down at the trunk.
She could drag it maybe.
Three miles in mud and early snow was another matter.
Nathan adjusted the leather strap holding her smaller trunk behind the saddle.
"I've got a ranch east of town," he said. "Black Pine, 6 miles from here."
She looked at him sharply.
He seemed to understand what she was thinking.
"You'd have a room with a door on it."
He paused.
"I've got hired men in the bunkhouse and an older cook who comes mornings when the roads clear. You won't be alone there with me unless the weather shuts them out."
Hannah studied him.
"That meant to reassure me."
"Yes. It needs work."
That faint movement touched the corner of his mouth again.
He picked up the reins.
"You can walk to Pine Hollow if you'd rather."
The wind pushed harder through the pines.
Hannah looked west.
Nothing but dark road.
Then east.
Nothing but Nathan Cole and a horse blowing white breath.
She bent, gripped both handles of the heavy trunk, and lifted.
The weight pulled at her arms.
Nathan watched her take three awkward steps.
He said nothing.
She took another.
The trunk struck her shin.
"Damn it."
Nathan looked away politely.
That irritated her more than if he had laughed.
"You can say it."
"Say what?"
"That I'm being foolish."
"You are?"
She glared at him.
"But it's your trunk."
Hannah stood there breathing hard, and against her will a small laugh escaped her.
It was the first sound like laughter she had made all day.
Nathan glanced back.
Then carefully he said, "I have a pack rope."
Five minutes later, they had rigged the trunk so Hannah could help steady it while Nathan carried most of the weight alongside her.
He never took it from her.
That mattered.
They walked east as the snow thickened.
Black Pine Ranch appeared after dark.
At first, Hannah saw only a lantern hung on a gatepost and the pale line of a split-rail fence disappearing into snow.
Then buildings took shape: a large barn, two corrals, a long bunkhouse with smoke coming from its stovepipe, a blacksmith shed.
Farther up the rise stood the main house, built of logs with a later frame addition on one side.