They ate in silence. Two strangers again. But now there was something worse than distance. There was memory. Days passed.
They moved around each other like shadows, never touching, never speaking more than needed. The storm ended. The cold stayed. Then the world shifted. It happened in the late afternoon.
A sound. Distant faint metal against leather. A bell. Luke froze. He stepped outside.
Clara stayed inside, but she moved closer to the door. Listening. A man's voice drifted through the trees. Old, rough, familiar to Luke. The supply runner.
Clara pressed her ear to the door. "Town's buzzing," the old man said. "About Abner Thorne. " Clara's breath stopped. "What about him? " Luke asked. "His new bride ran off. " A pause vanished in the storm.
Another pause. Got men riding every trail. Clara closed her eyes. "Put a reward out. " The man went on. "Fifty dollars. " Luke said nothing.
"Girl's named Clara Paige. " The man added. "Brown hair. Nineteen. " Silence stretched. "Thorne says she's armed. " Luke's voice came low. "If I see her, I'll let you know. " Clara's eyes snapped open.
The words hit like ice. The conversation ended. Hooves faded. Silence returned. The door opened.
Luke stepped inside. Clara stood in the middle of the room, face pale, eyes fixed on him. "You lied," he said. The words landed flat. "Heavy.
"I didn't know how. "" His voice stayed, but something inside it had turned. ""You brought that man to my door. " "I was trying to protect you. " "Protect me? "" A short, bitter sound left him. "You made me a target. " Clara stepped back. Her hands shook. "I'll leave," she said quickly. "I'll go now. " Luke moved fast.
Too fast. He grabbed her arm. She flinched hard. The moment froze. His grip loosened immediately.
He stared at his own hand like it didn't belong to him. "Then get out. " The words came quiet. Worse than shouting. Clara didn't argue. didn't cry. Something inside her went still.
She walked past him, opened the door. Cold rushed in. She stepped into it without looking back. Luke stood there. Listening.
Her footsteps faded into the trees. Then nothing. Silence. The cabin felt empty again, just like before. He told himself it was right, safer, cleaner.
But the silence pressed in harder this time. He sat by the fire. staring, waiting for it to feel like before. It didn't. His eyes drifted to the table. Her cup sat there, a faint mark on the rim.
Something small, something human. He remembered her hands, the way she held the rifle, the way she looked at him when she hit the target, the way she said his name. Luke stood suddenly, the stool scraped hard against the floor. "No," the word came out rough. He grabbed his coat, his rifle, kicked the door open, and ran.