Her presence was no longer uncertain, no longer edged with suspicion. She moved with the calm of someone who had decided, though she hadn't spoken the words yet. Clay worked the corral fence while the sun climbed. His hands were steady on the hammer, but his mind kept circling back to the night before. The warmth of her hand against his arm, the feel of her lips, the quiet certainty in her voice when she said she believed him.
It had been years since he'd let anyone close enough to stir that kind of feeling. And now it consumed him. He didn't regret a second of it. By midday, as he carried water from the creek, a shadow appeared on the ridge. Jeb Rollins again, this time with two other men trailing behind him.
They rained in their horses just out of reach, eyes fixed on the cabin. Clay felt the knot tighten in his gut. He set the pale down slowly, his hand brushing the butt of his revolver, though he didn't draw. Jeb called out, voice loud, carrying across the wet ground. Mercer.
Folks in town say you've got a squall holed up in there. They say you bought her. We don't take kindly to that sort of thing. Clay's jaw set. He stepped forward, planting his boots in the mud.
Ain't your business what I do on my land. One of the men snorted. You think you could just bring one of them here? Act like it's normal. People are talking.
Ain't right. Clay's eyes narrowed, his voice low but clear. She's free. She stays because she chooses to. Any man who tries to say otherwise can answer to me.
There was a tense silence, the three men shifting in their saddles. Clay's hand hovered near his revolver, but his voice never wavered. After a long moment, Jeb spat in the dirt and tugged his reigns. "You'll regret it, Mercer," he muttered before turning his horse. The others followed.
Clay stood there until their shapes disappeared over the ridge. Only then did he breathe, his chest heavy. He turned back toward the cabin where Nia stood just inside the doorway. She had heard every word. Her eyes met his steady and unreadable.
That evening, after chores were finished, they sat by the fire. The silence between them felt charged, but no longer fragile. Nia stirred the pot absent-mindedly, her eyes distant. Finally, she spoke. "If I stay, they hate you more." Klay leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.