"We're taking them to Clarksville," he said. "There's a judge there who will see them hang for what they've done. You two need to come, too. Give statements." Wyatt nodded.
"We will. Just give us a minute." Hendricks studied them both, his expression softening. "Take your time. I'll send one of my men to help patch up the cabin in the morning."
"Appreciate it." When Hendricks left, Wyatt turned to "Ayla." She was staring at her hands, still shaking. He reached out and took them in his own. "Hey," he said gently.
"Look at me." "She did, her eyes red and swollen." "You did good," Wyatt said. "Real good. If you hadn't gone for help, we'd both be dead right now."
"I almost didn't," she admitted. "I almost kept riding, but I couldn't leave you. I couldn't just run and save myself when you were here fighting for me." "You came back," Wyatt said. That's what matters.
"I came back because you mattered," she said, echoing his words from weeks ago. Because you stood up for me when no one else would. Because you're the first person in my whole life who treated me like I was worth something. Wyatt's throat tightened. "You're worth something.
Don't ever let anyone tell you different." She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her. They stayed like that for a long time, holding on to each other in the ruins of the cabin. Two people who'd survived the worst and somehow found something precious in the process. Eventually, they had to move.
The deputies needed statements and there were logistics to handle. But as they walked out of the cabin together into the cold morning air, Wyatt felt something he hadn't felt in years. Peace. The next few days were a blur of activity. Hendricks and his men took Harlo and the others to Clarksville, and Wyatt and Ayla went along to testify.
The judge was a hard man with no patience for scum like Harlo. And the trial was short. Guilty on all counts. Sentencing came down swift and final. Hanging.
Wyatt and Ayla didn't stay to watch. They'd seen enough violence to last a lifetime. On the ride back to the ranch, they were quiet. The landscape rolled past, white and empty, and Wyatt found himself thinking about the future. For the first time in a long while, he had one worth thinking about.
"What are you going to do now?" Ayla asked as they approached the ranch. Wyatt glanced at her. "Fix the cabin, mend the fences, get ready for spring. And after that, don't know.
Haven't thought that far ahead." He paused. "What about you?" Ayla was silent for a moment. "I don't know either.
I've been running for so long. I'm not sure I know how to stop." "Well," Wyatt said carefully, "you're welcome to stay if you want. No pressure." She looked at him, her expression unreadable.
"You mean that?" "Wouldn't say it if I didn't." "I don't want to be a burden." "You're not. You pull your weight.