"You don't have to do that," Cole said. "I do." She replied simply and kept sweeping. Cole didn't argue. It wasn't about cleaning. It was about proving something.
Maybe to him, maybe to herself. In a late afternoon, he took her down the line to check a section of fence he'd been meaning to mend. As they worked, Cole kept watch on the horizon. His eyes tracing the distant road toward town. He hadn't seen anyone come near since the night he found her, but he couldn't shake the thought of those boys and whether they might come looking.
You know their names? He asked finally. Nia hesitated. One called Clay, she said. Others I didn't know.
Cole nodded slowly. Clay. He'd heard the name before. A ranch hands kid who spent too much time in the saloon. Trouble looking for somewhere to happen.
If they show up here, you stay inside, Cole said. Nia's dark eyes met his. You fight them if I have to. His voice was steady, but she could hear the edge under it. They finished the fence just before sundown and headed back to the cabin.
When Cole struck a match and lit the lamp, he noticed Nia watching him closely as if weighing whether to speak. "You take me to town?" she asked quietly. Cole looked at her for a long moment. "Not yet," he said. Not till I know it's safe.
She didn't argue, but something in her shoulders eased as though she'd been afraid he might send her away. That night, Cole cooked beans and salt pork while Nia sat at the table mending one of his torn work shirts. She worked with quick, sure hands, and when she was done, she set the shirt neatly on the table in front of him. "You so better than I do," he said. Her mouth almost curved into a smile, but she only said, "My mother, teach me." When the fire burned low, Cole rolled out his bed roll on the floor instead of taking the cot.
Nia looked at him surprised. "You sleep there? C's yours tonight." Cole said simply. She hesitated, then lay down on the cot, still wrapped in his coat. It was the first time she'd slept off the floor since she came.