Jonah took his bed roll and unrolled it in the far corner, the coldest part of the room near the drafty door. He wanted to show her he kept his word. Millie sat on the edge of the bed, the rifle across her lap. She did not lie down. She pulled the blanket around her shoulders, her eyes fixed on him.
Go to sleep, Jonah said, stretching out on the hard floor. I am not going to touch you. I will stay awake, she said. Jonah closed his eyes, but he did not sleep. He lay there listening to the storm build.
The wind was screaming now, tearing at the trees outside. It was the kind of night that buried mistakes and hid secrets. Hours passed. The fire popped and hissed. Jonah's breathing evened out, feigning sleep. though his hand rested near the colt revolver in his coat pocket.
Then he heard it. It was not the wind. It was a sound distinct from nature. The heavy rhythmic crunch of snow under multiple boots. Voices muffled by the gale, shouting to be heard.
Jonah's eyes snapped open. He sat up. Millie was already standing. Her face had gone pale, her eyes wide with a terror that was absolute. "They are here," she whispered.
Her voice broke. They will drag me back. She looked at the door, then at the rifle, her hands shaking so hard the weapon rattled. She looked like she might turn the gun on herself rather than open that door. Jonah did not ask who they were.
He did not ask what she had done. He looked at the terror in her face and made a choice that he did not fully understand. "Kill the light," he ordered. Millie froze. "Now," Jonah hissed.
She blew out the lamp. The room plunged into darkness, lit only by the faint red glow of the stove vents. Jonah moved fast. He crossed the room, grabbed the heavy quilt from the bed, and threw it over the stove to stifle the light, praying it wouldn't catch fire for a few minutes. He grabbed Millie by the arm.
She flinched violently, but he pulled her down to the floor behind the bulk of the table. "Quiet," he whispered. "Not a sound. The voices were closer now. They were right outside the cabin.
I tell you, there is no one here. A man's voice shouted over the wind. Look at the chimney. No smoke. I thought I saw a light.
Another voice argued. It is a reflection of the moon, you fool. There is no moon, but you know what I mean. Place is abandoned. Jonah smelled the drift of tobacco smoke seeping through the cracks in the logs.
They were on the porch. He felt Millie trembling against him. A vibration so violent it felt like she was seizing. He put a heavy hand on her shoulder, pressing her down, grounding her. "Try the door," the second voice said.