Jonas nodded.
“Poorly.”
She lifted the axe.
He raised both hands.
“Very well.”
At night, Jonas still slept near the stove.
Rebecca stopped asking.
That somehow made resisting harder.
She would lie under blankets reading by lamplight.
Jonas pretended to repair traps.
Sometimes their eyes met.
Neither spoke.
By the second week, Rebecca’s strength improved.
She learned the well.
Animals.
Bread in high altitude.
How to dry mittens without scorching them.
How much wood the cabin consumed.
Where snow drifted deepest.
Which trail was safest.
Jonas learned things too.
Rebecca hummed when nervous.
She disliked coffee but drank it because mornings were cold.
She counted steps while carrying buckets.
She could calculate costs faster than him.
She hated mice.
Not bears.
Mice.
The first time one ran beneath the table, Rebecca climbed onto a chair with remarkable speed.
Jonas stared.
“You threatened a wealthy criminal.”
“Yes.”
“But that defeats you.”
She pointed toward the floor.
“It moved unnaturally.”
“It is a mouse.”
“Remove it.”
Jonas laughed so hard he had to lean against the wall.
Rebecca did not speak to him for an hour.
The ledger remained hidden beneath a floorboard.
Jonas had insisted.
He also began planning a trip to Denver after the deepest winter passed.
Rebecca wanted sooner.
“No.”
“Jonas.”
“Pass is unreliable.”
“You go trapping.”
“Close.”
“Denver is not the moon.”
“No.”
“You cannot simply say no.”
“I just did.”
“We are partners.”
“Yes.”
“Then discuss it.”
Jonas sighed.
“The route to Denver crosses two exposed passes.”
“Storms appear in minutes.”
“You don't know the trail.”
“You have barely adjusted to this altitude.”
“And if Charles reaches the agency records before spring?”
Jonas paused.
Rebecca saw.
“That’s what I thought.”
He disliked that phrase.
“What do you propose?”
“I go to town next supply run.”
“Send copies by registered post.”
“To whom?”
“The investigator.”
“And if mail is intercepted?”
“Another copy to an attorney.”
Jonas considered.
Rebecca smiled.
“You see?”
“What?”
“Marriage.”
“I hate it.”
“You adore it.”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“Liar.”
Jonas looked down.
It had been three weeks.
Three weeks of separate sleeping.
Three weeks of restrained touches.
Glances.
Accidental brushes that neither believed accidental anymore.
Rebecca’s hand moved onto his chest.
Just as it had at the railway platform.
Jonas covered it with his.
“Rebecca.”
“Yes?”
“Stop doing that.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“I would like to hear you say it.”
He stared.
She smiled.
Jonas’s self-control frayed.
He bent.
Stopped an inch from her mouth.
Rebecca’s smile disappeared.
“Jonas.”
“You asked.”
Her breath touched his lips.
“I did.”
“If I kiss you now, I am not stopping because you become nervous halfway through.”
Rebecca’s eyes widened slightly.
Jonas immediately corrected.
“I mean I will stop if you ask.”
A faint smile.
“I know.”
“I’m saying…”
“You're terrible at this.”
“I have been alone three years.”
“You mention that often.”
“Because it is becoming relevant.”
Rebecca laughed softly.
Jonas kissed her.
Not the church kiss.
Not proper.
Not brief.
Rebecca’s fingers clenched in his shirt as Jonas put one hand at her waist and the other against her cheek.
She opened to him slowly.
The sound she made nearly ended every reasonable thought he possessed.
Jonas pulled away first.
Rebecca’s eyes remained closed for a moment.
Then opened.
“You stopped.”
“Yes.”
“You said you wouldn't.”
“I lied.”
She smiled.
“I’m learning your weaknesses.”
“You are my weakness.”
The words came out before Jonas could stop them.
Rebecca froze.
So did he.
Neither joked.
Jonas’s hand remained at her waist.
Rebecca looked up.
“That frightens you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Jonas stepped back.
He walked toward the window.
Outside, snow covered the world.
“My father loved my mother.”
Rebecca waited.
“He died first.”
“Logging accident.”
“My mother stayed in our old house three years after.”
“She stopped eating properly.”
“Stopped talking.”
“Stopped living before she died.”
Jonas looked at Rebecca.
“I decided love makes grief expensive.”
Rebecca’s expression softened.
“So you chose loneliness in advance.”
Jonas stared.
She continued.
“To avoid losing something later.”
“It worked.”
“Did it?”
He almost laughed.
“You are merciless.”
“I married you.”
“Apparently.”
Rebecca walked toward him.
She did not touch him immediately.
“Jonas.”
“Yes?”
“If we have twenty years or twenty days…”
His face tightened.
“Don't.”
“No.”
“You don't get to protect yourself by making my choices for me.”
“I crossed the country.”
“I married you.”
“I climbed the mountain.”
“I am still here.”
She reached for his hand.
“You can sleep on that miserable floor until spring if you wish.”
“I will not force you into that bed.”
“But do not pretend distance is kindness if what you really mean is fear.”
Jonas stared at her.
Then pulled her against him.
Rebecca gasped.
He kissed her again.
Harder.
She wrapped both arms around his neck.
Jonas lifted her slightly without thinking.
Her boots left the floor.
Rebecca laughed against his mouth.
He carried her two steps toward the bed.
Then stopped.
Forehead against hers.
“Tell me.”
“What?”
“That you want this.”
Rebecca’s face softened.
“I want you.”
Jonas closed his eyes.
“And tomorrow?”
“I will probably still want you.”
“Not good enough.”
She smiled.
“I choose you, Jonas Hargrave.”
His eyes opened.
“Tonight.”
“Tomorrow.”
“And if you are still unbearable before breakfast, I reserve the right to reconsider by noon.”
Jonas laughed.
Then lowered her carefully onto the bed.
The stove burned low.
Snow covered the windows.
And the marriage stopped being cold.
Morning arrived late.
Rebecca woke beneath heavy hides with her cheek against Jonas’s chest.
He was awake.
She could tell by the rhythm of his breathing.
“You snore.”
“No.”
“You do.”
“You imagined it.”
“I considered smothering you.”
“Wife of three weeks already planning murder.”
“Marriage is difficult.”
Jonas smiled.
Rebecca traced the scar on his chin.
He became still.
“How?”
“Bear trap.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Really?”
“No.”
“Jonas.”
“Man with a bottle in Leadville.”
“Less impressive.”
“More accurate.”
She smiled.
Then her expression changed.
Jonas noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Your nothing face is terrible.”
Rebecca looked toward the window.