Her hands spoke for her. They were strong, capable, scarred in places. The hands of someone who'd survived. Wyatt found himself watching her when he thought she wasn't looking. The way she moved, efficient and deliberate.
The way she spoke to the horses, low and soothing, like she understood something about them he didn't. The way she stood at the edge of the corral, sometimes staring out at the horizon, her face unreadable. He didn't ask about the bruise, didn't ask where she'd come from or who she was running from. He figured if she wanted to tell him, she would. And if she didn't, that was her right.
But one night, after they'd spent the day clearing brush from the creek bed, she did. They were sitting by the fire in the cabin, the day's work behind them, the warmth seeping into their tired muscles. Ayla had her hands wrapped around a cup of coffee, her eyes fixed on the flames. "I was traveling," she said suddenly. Wyatt glanced at her, but didn't interrupt.
"Looking for work," she continued. "There was a man. Said he knew someone who needed help on a farm a few towns over. Good pay, he said. a place to stay. It sounded safe.
She paused, her jaw tightening. "It wasn't," she said. When I got there, there was no farm, just a house. And men, they told me I owed them for the ride, for the food, for the room. They said I'd work it off, but the debt kept growing.
And when I tried to leave, she stopped, her knuckles white around the cup. Wyatt felt something cold settle in his chest. "They hurt you." It wasn't a question. "They tried," Ayla said.
"I fought, got away in the middle of the night. Been running ever since." Wyatt set his own cup down and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "They know where you are?" "I don't think so," she said.
"But I don't know for sure." He nodded slowly. "Well," he said, "if they show up here, they'll regret it." She looked at him, her dark eyes searching his face. "Why would you do that?
You don't even know me." Don't need to. Wyatt said. Nobody's got the right to treat another person that way. Not in my book.
She held his gaze for a long moment, then looked back at the fire. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Don't thank me yet," Wyatt said. "Let's just get through winter first." A faint smile crossed her lips, and for the first time since he'd found her, Wyatt saw something other than fear in her eyes.