Shia took a deep breath, then began to speak. Each word seemed to slice through the air. Ned Carver wanted me to work as a saloon girl to pay off a debt. I said no. He beat me and gave me until Christmas Eve.
She clutched the blanket tighter. I ran away, but he will not let it go. He will tear apart the whole town to find me. Evan looked straight at her. You are safe here.
Shia gave a faint smile, caught somewhere between irony and despair. Really? Out here in the west? Has anyone ever truly been safe? Evan did not answer right away.
He added more wood to the fire, letting the flames rise and light up the face of the Apache woman who was holding on to the last thread of trust she had. The storm outside showed no sign of stopping. And inside this tiny wooden house, something was slowly, very slowly, beginning to change. On the second night, the snowstorm still refused to let up. The wind slammed against the wooden walls like hundreds of hands trying to tear the door down.
Evan sat at the table, carving an old piece of wood to ease his restless mind. Shia lay on the rug near the fireplace, but she did not sleep. Every time the fire cracked, she flinched like someone who had spent too long being hunted. After a long silence, she spoke. They say you have kept your promise to your mother for this long.
That is strange. Evan set the knife down. She wanted me to wait for a woman who was truly worthy. She said, Do not waste yourself on things that only leave you feeling empty. Shia stared into the fire.
Her voice was soft but heavy with years. You will know when breaking a promise is no longer a sin, but feels like breathing. Evan looked over. In the firelight, Shia no longer looked like a cornered Apache warrior, but a woman who had been wounded deeply, not just in flesh, but in ways no eyes could see. A moment later, she spoke again, as if confessing something she had kept buried for 4 years.
I stopped feeling like anyone ever truly wanted me. Not since my husband died. And then Ned Carver tried to turn me into whatever it was he wanted. Evan moved a little closer. Shia, you are not something for anyone to do with as they please.
She looked up, locking eyes with him. That gaze was fierce. Yet deep inside, something still trembled. Then what am I? she asked. Evan took a slow breath.
Someone I have not been able to look away from. Since the moment you knocked on my door, the air between them suddenly grew thicker, warmer, like the fire had just been fed a new flame. Shia clutched the blanket and whispered, You make me forget all the vows I once tied myself to. Evan leaned in slightly, his voice low but steady. You do not have to forget.