When she spoke, her voice was flat, almost too calm. Three boys, white. I crossed near the town yesterday. They stopped me, laughed, took my things. Cole felt his jaw tighten.
Just your clothes and food," she said. "I had some corn in a sack. They threw it in the dirt." Her words came short and clipped, but there was no mistaking the humiliation in her face. She kept her eyes on the fire as she spoke, as though saying it out loud made it worse. Cole thought about the boys in town, about the kind who hung around the saloon too long and went looking for trouble when the whiskey ran out.
You picture them seeing her down by the road. Alone, tired, an easy target. You got family nearby? He asked. No.
Her voice was harder this time. I came north to find work. Maybe trade. Nothing left south. That told him enough.
He knew what had happened to some of the Apache settlements after the last push by the army. Burned camps, families scattered. She was lucky to be alive. Cole sat back, weighing the risk. He had no reason to keep her here.
Bringing her back toward town would probably draw questions he didn't want to answer, but turning her out with nothing meant she wouldn't last two days. "You can stay here a while," he said finally. "Till you figure where you're headed." Her dark eyes flicked to his sharp and suspicious. "Why? Because I got room and I don't let folks starve on my doorstep," Cole said simply.
Nia didn't answer. Just set the empty tin cup down and pulled the coat tighter around her shoulders. After breakfast, Cole brought her the men dress. The stitches were rough, but it would hold. He turned his back while she changed near the corner of the cabin, staring at the fire until she said, "Okay." When she stepped out, the dress was clean, but tight across her chest where he had pulled the thread too close.
Cole caught himself glancing before looking away. "I got work to do," he said, grabbing his hat from the peg. "You can rest or come with me." "Up to you. I come," she said quickly, as if staying inside alone was worse. Cole saddled the horse and they walked the fence line together.
Nia stayed close, not speaking, just watching how he checked the posts and tightened the wire. At first, she moved slow, limping from her cut feet, but after a while, she started carrying tools for him without being asked. By midday, the sun was high, and Cole stopped at the creek to water the horse. Nia knelt to wash the mud from her legs. And Cole noticed how carefully she kept her back to him.