Twenty-two minutes later they stood inside a small church.
Reverend Samuel Abbott read the vows.
The building smelled of old timber, coal heat, and candle wax.
Snow tapped against colored glass.
There were no flowers.
No family.
No rings.
Jonas had not thought of rings.
Rebecca did not complain.
When the reverend asked whether Jonas took Rebecca Hale as his lawful wife, Jonas hesitated only long enough to make her eyebrow lift.
“I do.”
Rebecca answered immediately.
“I do.”
The reverend pronounced them husband and wife.
Then smiled.
“You may kiss your bride.”
Jonas looked at Rebecca.
Rebecca looked at Jonas.
Neither moved.
Reverend Abbott cleared his throat.
Jonas said:
“That wasn't discussed.”
Rebecca whispered:
“Coward.”
His eyes narrowed.
She smiled.
So Jonas bent down.
Not much.
Just enough.
He touched his mouth to hers.
Brief.
Proper.
Almost nothing.
Then Rebecca’s gloved fingers caught the front of his coat.
Jonas stopped.
Her lips stayed against his for one extra heartbeat.
Maybe two.
When she released him, Jonas straightened.
The reverend suddenly seemed extremely interested in the marriage certificate.
Rebecca’s cheeks were crimson.
Jonas suspected his were no better.
“Practical marriage,” she whispered.
“Quiet.”
They left church as husband and wife.
The journey into the mountains removed every trace of humor.
Jonas had brought Bess for Rebecca.
A small bay mare.
Gentle.
Sure-footed.
He loaded Rebecca’s traveling bag behind the saddle and wrapped an extra wool blanket around her legs.
“You know how to ride?”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
Rebecca looked offended.
“Better than you apparently think.”
“That isn't measurable.”
She mounted without help.
Jonas raised an eyebrow.
Rebecca settled into the saddle.
“Enough?”
“Acceptable.”
She muttered something.
“What?”
“I said thank you.”
“You did not.”
“No.”
They climbed.
Silver Plume disappeared behind them.
The trail narrowed beneath tall pines coated in snow.
Mountains rose white and gray into the sky.
Rebecca had never seen anything like it.
Jonas knew because she stopped pretending not to be impressed after the first mile.
“It looks endless.”
“It nearly is.”
“You live how far?”
“Seven miles.”
“That sounded shorter in your letters.”
“Distances become different vertically.”
She looked at him.
“You could have included that.”
“I assumed common sense.”
“You assume a great deal.”
“Yes.”
The trail steepened.
Rebecca stopped talking.
By the third mile her breathing became heavier.
Altitude.
Jonas watched carefully.
Her posture remained upright, but tension gathered around her eyes.
“Head hurt?”
“No.”
“Rebecca.”
“A little.”
“Nausea?”
“No.”
“Dizzy?”
“Only when I look down.”
“Then stop looking down.”
“There is a thousand-foot drop beside me.”
“Approximately six hundred.”
“That does not help.”
Jonas almost smiled.
They continued.
Half an hour later, Bess stumbled on packed snow.
Rebecca gasped and grabbed the saddle horn.
Jonas turned instantly.
“You all right?”
“Yes.”
“Need to stop?”
“No.”
“Don't be foolish.”
“I said no.”
He watched.
She was pale.
Hands shaking.
But her eyes remained clear.
Jonas knew men twice her size who would already have demanded whiskey and a bed.
Rebecca simply adjusted the blanket around her legs.
“Keep going.”
He did.
By sunset they reached the cabin.
It stood beneath towering pines near the base of a granite ridge.
Two rooms.
Timber walls.
Stone chimney.
Small barn thirty yards away.
Smoke rose from the chimney because Jonas had banked the stove before leaving.
Rebecca stared.
Jonas dismounted.
“This is it.”
She looked at him.
“I gathered.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I’m deciding.”
“About?”
“Whether it looks more welcoming than you.”
Jonas glanced at the cabin.
“Cabin wins.”
“Easily.”
He helped her from Bess.
Rebecca’s legs nearly failed when her boots touched the ground.
Jonas caught her around the waist.
Her hands gripped his shoulders.
For a moment they froze.
Very close.
Rebecca looked up.
Jonas looked down.
Something moved between them again.
Hot.
Immediate.
Inconvenient.
Jonas released her.
“Altitude.”
“Yes.”
“Inside.”
He carried her bag.
Rebecca followed.
The cabin was simple.
Cast-iron stove.
Wooden table.
Two chairs.
Shelves.
Rifles mounted above the door.
A narrow bed against one wall covered in thick wolf hides.
Washbasin.
Hooks for clothes.
Kitchen area.
Everything clean.
Everything functional.
Nothing decorative except an old photograph of Jonas’s parents.
Rebecca turned slowly.
Jonas watched.
“Well?”
“It’s…”
He waited.
“Clean.”
“That sounded surprised.”
“I pictured animal bones.”
“Why?”
“You trap.”
“I don't decorate with skeletons.”
“Good.”
Jonas placed her bag beside the bed.
“I'll sleep near the stove.”
Rebecca looked toward the floor.
“You were serious.”
“Yes.”
“There is one bed.”
“Yes.”
“And we are married.”
“Yes.”
He began removing his gloves.
Rebecca said:
“You are very determined to avoid that fact.”
Jonas stopped.
“I’m giving you time.”
“Did I ask for time?”
“No.”
“Then don't hide behind generosity.”
Jonas slowly turned.
Rebecca swallowed.
The courage in her eyes remained, but so did uncertainty.
Jonas walked toward her.
One step.
Then another.
Rebecca did not move.
He stopped close enough to feel the warmth of her breath.
“You have been my wife less than six hours.”
“Yes.”
“You've ridden seven miles through snow.”
“Yes.”
“You can barely stand.”
“I am standing.”
“Badly.”
Her eyes narrowed.
Jonas’s voice softened.
“If I take you to that bed tonight, Rebecca, it will not be because a reverend said I may.”
Her breathing changed.
“It will be because you ask me.”
Rebecca stared.
Jonas continued.
“And because I'm certain you're asking because you want me, not because you think it is another duty listed in our agreement.”
Something in her face softened.
“Jonas.”
First time she used his name.
It affected him more than it should have.
He stepped back.
“Tonight, you sleep.”
Rebecca looked almost annoyed.
Jonas smiled.
“Tomorrow you may resume trying to destroy my self-control.”
She lifted her chin.
“Perhaps I will.”
“I have no doubt.”
Then Rebecca reached for her traveling bag.
Jonas turned toward the stove.
He heard leather buckles.
Fabric.
Then a sharp intake of breath.
He looked back.
Rebecca had removed her shawl.
She was trying to unfasten one glove.
Her sleeve slid upward.
Only two inches.
Enough.
Jonas saw the bruises.
His entire body went still.
Dark marks circled her wrist.
Not old.