But later that night, as they sat by the fire, she told him anyway. There were four of them, she said, her voice steady, but her hands clenched tight around her cup. The man who offered me the job and three others. They had a house about two days' ride from here, run-down place. Looked like it used to be a farm, but nothing was growing anymore.
Wyatt listened without interrupting. When I got there, they told me the work was inside. Cooking, cleaning, that sort of thing. seemed reasonable at first, but then they started adding things. Said I owed them for the room, for the food, for the ride. The debt kept growing, and every time I tried to leave, they'd block the door.
Tell me I couldn't go until I'd worked it off. Her voice cracked slightly, but she pushed on. One night, the leader, the one who'd hired me, he came into my room, told me there were other ways to settle the debt. I fought him off, broke a lamp over his head, he hit me. She touched her wrist where the bruise had faded to a dull yellow.
But I got out, ran into the woods, and didn't stop until I couldn't run anymore. Ended up at that train station three days later. Wyatt's jaw was tight, his hands curled into fists. "You know their names?" "The leader went by Harlo.
Don't know if that was real or not. The others I only heard first names. Cade, Dutch, Silas." "Harlo," Wyatt repeated, committing it to memory. "He the one with the beard?"
Ayla nodded. "You think they'll come back?" "I think men like that don't like being told no, but if they do, they'll regret it." She looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. I don't want you to get hurt because of me.
Won't be because of you, Wyatt said firmly. Be because they're cowards who prey on people weaker than them. That's on them, not you. She wiped at her eyes, nodding. They sat in silence for a while, the fire crackling between them.
Finally, Ayla spoke again. "I've never had anyone stand up for me before," she said quietly. "Not like this." "Well," Wyatt said. "You do now."
The days grew shorter, the nights colder. Snow fell in earnest, blanketing the ranch in white and sealing them in. They worked together to winterize everything, securing the barn, stacking firewood, rationing supplies. The isolation didn't bother Wyatt. He'd lived through plenty of hard winters alone.
But this one felt different, less lonely, almost comfortable. Ayla had a way of filling the silence without crowding it. She hummed while she worked old songs he didn't recognize. And sometimes she'd tell him stories about her childhood, small memories that painted a picture of a life very different from his. In return, he taught her things. how to read the weather, how to tell if a horse was favoring a leg, how to make a fire that would last through the night.