Not out of modesty, he realized, but because she was still afraid to let anyone near her blind spot. You don't have to keep looking over your shoulder here, Cole said quietly. She didn't turn, just said, "I keep watch for myself." When I made it back to the cabin, Cole set her on the porch rail with a needle and a scrap of cloth. "You know how to sew?" he asked. She nodded once.
He left her there while he stacked wood. By the time the sun dropped low, she had finished the patch and was already threading the needle again. That night, Cole sat on the porch with his rifle across his knees, watching the tree line. Inside, Nia lay near the fire again. But this time, her breathing came easier.
He knew this wasn't over. Whoever those boys were, they might come looking. And if they did, he'd be ready. For now, the cabin was quiet except for the sound of the crickets outside and the fire snapping low. It was the first time since finding her that Cole felt something other than anger, a thin, cautious sense that maybe she had decided not to run.
The next morning, Cole woke early as usual. The sky was just starting to gray at the edges when he opened the door and stepped outside, the air cooler than the night before. The fire had burned down to embers, and he heard Nia stirring behind him, pulling the coat tighter around her shoulders as she sat up from her blanket. Cole set water to boil and handed her a plate with the last of the cornbread from the night before. She ate it slowly, glancing toward the door as if still expecting trouble.
"You can stay inside today if you want," Cole said as he poured coffee. Nia shook her head. "I work," she said, her voice low but firm. Cole studied her for a moment, then nodded. He didn't want her pushing herself too hard.
Her feet were still cut and sore, but he understood what she meant. Sitting inside all day would make her feel cornered, helpless. He handed her a pair of worn socks he'd dug out of a trunk and told her they'd make it easier to walk. She pulled them on without complaint, then stood near the door, waiting. They spent the morning hauling water from the creek to the trough near the corral.
Nia worked quietly, carrying one bucket at a time, her shoulders stiff with effort. Cole noticed how determined she was, refusing to rest, even when her arms began to shake. "You can sit a spell," he told her. She just shook her head and kept walking. By midday, they had the trough full and Cole brought the horse in a drink.
Nia stayed near the gate, watching carefully, her body tense when the animal moved too quickly. You ever worked around stock before? Cole asked. She shook her head. Not horses, goats, chickens.
You'll get used to him, Cole said, keeping his tone calm. He won't hurt you. Nia nodded but didn't move closer until Cole had finished brushing the horse down. After they ate a quiet meal back at the cabin, Cole went to the shed to grab tools. When he came out, Nia was sweeping the porch with a makeshift broom, her dark hair falling loose around her face.