You Ashford's new mistake. "I work here. " "Nobody works here. " He crossed the room without permission, dropped wood beside the hearth, and rebuilt the flames with quick hands. Clara followed him with the poker. Who are you? Silas Creed.
My cabin sits higher up. Then return to it. Silas glanced toward the loose roof beams. This place will be buried before night. I'll manage.
You nearly froze beside a fire. Clara's jaw tightened. "Teach me, then. " For the first time his hands became still. Silas studied the blisters across her palms, the bruised skin around one wrist, and the faded mark where a wedding ring had been. He asked no questions.
Instead, he repaired the door, packed her food, tied a rope around his waist, and handed her the other end. "Step where I step. " The climb became a white roaring world. Clara fell twice. The third time her knees would not straighten. Silas lifted her against his chest and carried her through the storm.
His cabin had been cut into the mountainside. Firelight warmed stone walls, traps, dried herbs, and animal skins filled the single room. There was one bed. Silas placed Clara near the hearth and removed her frozen boots. White patches covered her toes.
He heated water, wrapped her feet, and pushed a bowl of stew into her shaking hands. "Eat. " She swallowed two bites before her eyes began closing. Silas crouched before her. His large hand closed gently around her wrist. "You can sleep when I'm done with you," he said.
Clara reached for the poker. Then three rifle shots cracked outside and Silas blew out the lamp. The darkness swallowed Silas before Clara heard the rifle leave his shoulder. "Stay down," he whispered. Another shot struck the cabin door.
Wood splinters crossed the room. Clara dropped beside the hearth, pressing both hands over her mouth. Silas crawled toward the narrow window. He lifted one corner of the hide covering it and looked outside. "Who are they? " Clara asked.
"Men who should not know you're here. " Hooves circled the cabin. A rider called from beyond the firelight. "Creed, send out Warren Whitmore's wife. We have no quarrel with you. " Clara's breathing stopped. Silas turned his head slowly.
"You said your name was Clara Hale. " "It was my mother's name. " "And Whitmore? " Her fingers closed around the poker. "The man who sent me away. " Outside the riders shouted again. "Her husband wants his property returned. " Silas's jaw shifted beneath his beard. "A woman isn't property. " The answer came with gunfire. Silas fired through the window.
A horse screamed, then raced into the trees. The remaining riders moved behind the rocks where his rifle could not reach them. He pulled Clara toward the stone wall. "There's a passage behind those shelves. Take the lamp and crawl until you reach daylight. " "What about you? " "I'll keep them busy. " Clara stared at the scar through his eyebrow.