Cole stayed awake longer than he meant to, listening to the sounds of the night. The crickets outside, the soft hiss of the fire, the slow rhythm of her breathing as it finally evened out. He felt the old habit of watchfulness settle over him. The one that had kept him alive on scouting missions years ago. But tonight, it felt different.
He wasn't just guarding himself. He was guarding her, too. Before he finally closed his eyes, he made a decision. Tomorrow he would ride to town, quiet, just to see who was hanging around and if anyone was talking about her, if there was trouble coming, he needed to know before it reached his door. For now, the cabin was still.
The fear in her face was fading bit by bit. And though he wouldn't say it out loud, that was enough reason to keep her here another day. Cole was up before dawn the next day. The air outside was still and cold enough that his breath showed. He saddled the horse in silence, checking the cinch twice, then came back inside.
"Nia was awake, sitting on the edge of the cot with the coat still around her shoulders." "You ride?" she asked. "Just in a town," Cole said, pulling on his hat. "I need to see who's hanging around." Her jaw tightened. "Clay." "Maybe," Cole said. "Better I find out than wait for him to come here." Nia stood as if ready to go with him, but Cole shook his head.
"Safer if you stay put. Keep a doorb rifles behind the table if you need it. She hesitated, then nodded once, her face pale but steady. The ride into town was quiet, the sky turning pale gold as the sun came up over the hills. Cole kept his shoulders loose, but every sound made him check the horizon.
When he reached the main street, the town was waking slow, a couple of wagons moving hay, someone sweeping outside the general store. He tied his horse near the feed lot and walked down the boardwalk toward the saloon. The place smelled of stale whiskey, even from outside. Inside, the bartender looked up, surprised to see him this early. Cole bought coffee and took a seat near the back where he could see the door.
It wasn't long before he spotted them. Two boys, about 20, laughing too loud, one of them with hair too long under a sweatstained hat. Clay. Cole recognized him from roundups years back. The same smirk, the same mean glint in the eye.
They didn't notice Cole right away, but when they did, the laughter cut short. Clay squared his shoulders and said just loud enough to be heard. Look who crawled in. Heard you've been keeping a pet up at your place. Cold didn't move.