“You didn’t.”
He looked at her.
“You always answer that.”
“Because you keep asking the same question.”
He smiled faintly.
“I was terrified.”
Abigail leaned against him.
“So was I.”
“You looked calm.”
“I was trying to make Caleb Rusk angry.”
“It worked.”
“That helped.”
They watched the river.
After a while, Mateo said, “Do you regret it?”
“Which part?”
“Me.”
Abigail laughed.
“That is an impressively foolish question for a man your age.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She looked at him.
“I regret the jail.”
He nodded.
“The gallows.”
Another nod.
“I regret every person who stood there and watched.”
Mateo waited.
“But loving you?”
She squeezed his hand.
“No.”
His shoulders relaxed.
“Good.”
“You were worried after thirty years?”
“A man likes confirmation.”
Abigail smiled.
“Then ask again when we’re ninety.”
“If I live that long.”
“You will.”
“How do you know?”
“I have experience dragging you toward better decisions.”
The following spring, Isaiah Freeman returned.
He was nearly eighty.
His horse looked younger than he did.
Abigail saw him from the porch and shouted his name.
Isaiah climbed down slowly.
“I warned you about sentimental behavior.”
She hugged him anyway.
Mateo came from the stable.
For several seconds, the two men simply looked at each other.
Then Mateo smiled.
“You’re still alive.”
Isaiah frowned.
“You sound disappointed.”
“I lost money.”
“You bet against me?”
“Never.”
Isaiah laughed.