“You think a man like me walks into Silver Point courthouse and gets heard?”
Penny did not answer.
The answer was obvious.
Nathaniel continued.
“Colt's father has used the land twenty years.”
“Adverse possession?”
Nathaniel looked surprised.
“You know law?”
“Bookkeeping.”
“Not the same.”
“People who owe money teach you many things.”
Nathaniel looked at her satchel.
“You should stay here.”
Penny laughed quietly.
“You just said Colt will come.”
“He wants me.”
“He has my note.”
“That can be paid.”
“With what?”
Nathaniel had no answer.
Penny folded her arms.
“My savings are gone. Mrs. Henderson will evict me the moment she realizes yesterday was not the end. Colt knows where I live.”
She looked directly at him.
“So I'm coming.”
Nathaniel's face closed.
“No.”
“If you trust me enough to lean on, trust me enough to walk beside you.”
“Mountain trail is not town road.”
“I know.”
“You'll slow me down.”
“I already dragged you two blocks.”
His mouth twitched.
Penny saw it.
“Was that a smile?”
“No.”
“It was.”
“You imagined it.”
She gathered clothes.
Nathaniel stared.
“You are impossible.”
“So I've been told.”
By noon, they were gone.
Nathaniel had a horse hidden near the edge of town.
Penny rented a second from a stable using three dollars Mrs. Henderson grudgingly returned from her room deposit.
That left Penny with seventeen cents.
She had never felt poorer.
She had also never felt freer.
The trail climbed northwest.
Silver Point disappeared behind them.
Nathaniel rode slowly because of his ribs.
Penny rode slowly because she had not spent more than an hour on horseback since childhood.
By dusk, every part of her body hurt.
Nathaniel noticed.
“You all right?”
“No.”
He waited.
Penny sighed.
“My thighs are threatening mutiny.”
Nathaniel laughed.
A real laugh this time.
Low.
Rough.
Unexpected.
Penny looked at him.
“You should do that more.”
“What?”
“Laugh.”
His expression changed.
“Don't have much reason.”
“You laughed at my suffering.”
“That helped.”
Penny smiled.
The mountain cabin stood beside a narrow creek beneath tall pines.
It was small.
Solid.
Cleaner than she expected.
Nathaniel dismounted with difficulty.
Penny entered first.
One room.
Bed.
Table.
Iron stove.
Shelves.
Traps hanging from hooks.
A rifle above the door.
She looked at the single bed.
Nathaniel noticed.
“I'll sleep on the floor.”
“With broken ribs?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
His brows lifted.
Penny immediately realized how the sentence sounded.
“I mean I'll sleep on the floor.”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Nathaniel looked around as though hoping a second bed might appear.
“Chair.”
“There is one chair.”
“You take bed.”
“I won't.”
“You paid one hundred forty-three dollars. Bed is included.”
Penny laughed despite herself.
They compromised.
Nathaniel took the bed because Penny threatened to tie him down if he reopened his ribs.
She took blankets beside the stove.
For four days, rain kept them inside.
Penny cooked.
Badly.
Nathaniel ate without complaint.
On the second morning he finally said:
“You burned the coffee.”
“I know.”
“And the biscuits.”
“I know.”
“And somehow the beans.”
“I know.”
Penny glared.
“You're welcome to cook.”
“I can't bend properly.”
“Then suffer.”
Nathaniel smiled.
Penny discovered she liked his smile far too much.
The attraction came quietly.
Not one great revelation.
Small moments.
Nathaniel handing her the driest blanket.
Penny washing his hair because he could not lift his arms comfortably.
His enormous body going strangely still when her fingers moved through the dark strands.
Her noticing how gentle his hands became when repairing the torn hem of her coat.
His noticing she always ate last.
“You do that every meal.”
“What?”
“Serve yourself after me.”
Penny looked down.
“Habit.”
“Bad one.”
The next morning Nathaniel placed food on her plate first.
No explanation.
Penny almost cried.
She hid it by complaining about the coffee.
On the fifth afternoon, Nathaniel's fever returned briefly.
Penny made him lie down.
She sat beside him with a damp cloth.
His shirt was off again.
He watched her.
She tried not to notice.
That was impossible.
Nathaniel Cross was a mountain.
Even injured, his shoulders seemed too broad for the narrow bed. Dark hair covered part of his chest. Scars crossed bronze skin. His beard made him look dangerous until his eyes softened.
Then he looked almost tired.
Human.
Penny pressed the cloth beneath his collarbone.
Nathaniel inhaled.
“Cold.”
“That's the purpose.”
“You enjoy this.”
“Tormenting you?”
“Yes.”
Penny smiled.
“Perhaps.”
He looked at her mouth.
Her smile disappeared.
The room changed.
Penny became suddenly aware of how close she was.
Her knee touched the mattress beside his hip.
Nathaniel's breathing slowed.
Her locket slipped forward.
Silver caught the window light.
Nathaniel's hand closed gently around her wrist.
Penny froze.
His gaze remained on her face.
Then dropped to the necklace.
For one second, desire remained.
Then vanished.
Nathaniel stared.
Not at Penny.
At the locket.
His hand loosened.
“Where did you get that?”
Penny looked down.
“My locket?”
Nathaniel pushed himself higher despite the pain.
“Where?”
“My father gave it to me.”
“When?”
“I was fourteen.”
Nathaniel's face had gone pale beneath the tan.
“Take it off.”
Penny recoiled.
“What?”
“I need to see it.”
She hesitated.
Nathaniel looked at her.
“Please.”
The word convinced her.
Penny removed the chain.
Placed the locket in his palm.
Nathaniel held it as though it might break.
The oval silver case was old.
Engraved on the front were two pine trees beneath a crescent moon.
Nathaniel traced them with his thumb.
“My mother wore this.”
Penny stopped breathing.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“My father said it belonged to my mother.”
Nathaniel looked at her.
“What was her name?”
“Eleanor Ashford.”
“Did she ever live near Salmon River?”
“No. At least... I don't think so.”
Nathaniel turned the locket over.
On the back was a tiny scratch Penny had always assumed accidental.
Nathaniel pressed his fingernail beneath it.
The case clicked.
A second inner panel opened.
Penny gasped.
She had never known it existed.
Inside was a tiny faded photograph.
Not Penny's mother.
A dark-haired woman with strong cheekbones stood beside a white man holding a small boy.
Nathaniel's hand trembled.
“My mother.”
Penny looked at him.
The boy in the photograph could only be Nathaniel.
“You're sure?”
He laughed bitterly.
“I remember the dress.”
Penny stared at the picture.
“How did my father get this?”
Nathaniel looked toward the window.
“That's what we're going to find out.”
Penny barely slept.
At dawn she sat at the table holding the locket.
Nathaniel made coffee.
Properly.
She watched him.
“My father lied to me.”
“Maybe.”
“He told me it belonged to Mama.”
“Maybe she had it later.”
“Why?”