"That means you expect to die. " Silas pushed cartridges into his rifle. "It means you leave now. " She did not move. For 7 years, Warren had made every choice while she stood quietly beside him. Even after casting her out, he still believed he could decide where she went and who brought her back. Clara set down the lamp.
"Tell me where your second rifle is. " Silas looked at her as if she'd spoken in another language. "Can you shoot? " "My father taught me before he decided ladies should forget such things. Silas pulled a short rifle from beneath the bed and placed it in her hands. Aim at the rocks. Do not waste powder.
The riders rushed together. Clara fired first. Her bullet struck the ground beneath one horse throwing dirt into its eyes. The animal turned hard and crashed into the second rider. Silas fired once.
A hat flew from the third man's head. "Next one won't miss," Silas called. The men dragged their injured companion into the trees. Their hoofbeats faded down the slope. Clara kept the rifle raised until her arms began shaking.
Silas took it gently. Your father taught you well. Warren made me sell his rifle after our wedding. Silas opened the door and studied the tracks. Blood marked the snow but not enough to kill.
Near the porch lay a folded paper tied around a stone. Clara recognized Warren's handwriting before Silas opened it. Return my wife before Sunday or Bear Creek learns what kind of man you are. Silas crushed the note. Clara watched his scar whiten.
What does he know about you? Enough to turn the town against me. Then tell me first. He fed the paper to the fire. Not tonight.
The next morning the storm weakened. Silas packed food and led Clara through the hidden passage to a narrow ravine. They climbed until the cabin disappeared below. For four days he taught her mountain life from sunrise until the stars appeared. She learned to read tracks, set snares, split wood, and fire the rifle without closing her eyes.
Each lesson brought them closer. Yet every question about his past made Silas turn away. On the fifth evening, Clara found Silas washing blood from his shirt. A bullet had cut his ribs during the attack. He had hidden the wound while it turned red and swollen.
"Sit down. " she ordered. "It's nothing. " "You taught me mountain truth. Here is mine. Sit. " Silas lowered himself onto a stool. Clara cleaned the wound with hot water and whiskey.