“Truly awful.”
“Yes.”
The fear left her face.
Caleb exhaled.
“Sleep.”
She did.
When Evelyn woke again, the storm was quieter.
Caleb was outside chopping wood.
She watched him through the window.
He was tall.
Broad.
Strong in a way city men rarely were.
His dark hair fell past his collar.
His beard made him look older than thirty-eight.
She remembered the stories.
Caleb Ward.
The killer on Hollow Ridge.
The man whose wife died.
The man who shot his own brother.
The man who disappeared into the mountains because civilization had no use for him.
Black Creek loved stories.
Truth rarely survived them.
Evelyn knew that better than anyone.
For five years, Black Creek had told stories about her too.
Cursed.
Unlucky.
Too large.
Too strange.
Too proud.
Too expensive to feed.
Those had been the kinder versions.
Evelyn had once been engaged.
Twice.
The first man, Charles Avery, died of influenza three weeks before their wedding.
Two years later, Thomas Bell proposed.
He was injured in a mill accident months afterward and survived, but his mother convinced him the engagement had brought him misfortune.
He ended it by letter.
Then Evelyn's father lost his business.
Her younger brother drowned.
Her mother died the following winter.
By the time Evelyn inherited the family house, people had transformed grief into superstition.
Mrs. Amos Hall whispered that Evelyn carried death into every home she entered.
A shopkeeper refused to hire her because customers might object.
Men flirted until friends reminded them.
Women invited her to church functions but never seated unmarried sons nearby.
Her body became part of the story.
If she had been thin and delicate, perhaps people would have called her tragic.
Because she was full-figured, they called her excessive.
Too much woman.
Too much appetite.
Too much misfortune.
She decided to leave.
The stagecoach had been taking her toward Helena.
Toward a cousin who had offered employment.
Instead, it delivered her into Caleb Ward's cabin.
The door opened.
Caleb entered carrying wood.
He saw her awake.
“Hungry?”
“Yes.”
He cooked stew.
Evelyn watched.
“You can cook.”
“Enough.”
“People said you ate raw meat.”
Caleb stopped.
“What?”
Evelyn tried not to smile.
“In Black Creek.”
“They said I eat raw meat?”
“Possibly only during full moons.”
He stared.
Then shook his head.
“Idiots.”
“What else did they say?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“Whether you actually murdered your brother.”
The spoon stopped moving.
Evelyn immediately regretted asking.
Caleb looked toward the fire.
“I didn't.”
“I am sorry.”
“You didn't start it.”
“Still.”
Caleb served stew.
They ate quietly.
Later, Evelyn noticed a photograph on the shelf.
A woman.
Young.
Smiling.
“Rebecca?”
Caleb looked.
“My sister.”
“The dress?”
“Yes.”
“She was beautiful.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Caleb's expression closed.
Evelyn understood.
“Another time.”
His gaze returned to her.
“Thank you.”
Over the next three days, the storm trapped them.
Evelyn recovered.
Caleb became increasingly uncomfortable.
Not because he disliked her.
The opposite.
She laughed loudly when something truly amused her.
She read whatever books she found.
She criticized his coffee.
Rearranged his medical shelf without permission.
Found a rip in his shirt and repaired it.
Caleb objected.
“You don't need to work.”
“I am trapped in a cabin.”
“Recover.”
“I recovered yesterday.”
“You bruised three ribs.”
“Bruised ribs do not prevent sewing.”
Caleb learned she was impossible.
Evelyn learned he liked impossible women more than he admitted.
On the fourth evening, she caught him staring again.
They were near the fire.
Evelyn wore the blue dress.
Caleb had removed his heavy outer shirt because the cabin was warm.
The thin undershirt beneath stretched across his chest.
“You're doing it again.”
Caleb looked away.
“Sorry.”
“Don't apologize.”
He looked back.
Evelyn's heart beat faster.
“For staring?”
“For finding me attractive.”
Caleb remained motionless.
She continued.
“Most men apologize afterward.”
“For what?”
“For looking.”
His jaw tightened.
“Men are fools.”
Evelyn smiled.
“Sometimes.”
Caleb crossed his arms.
“You seem comfortable discussing this.”
“I became tired of pretending I do not know what people think about my body.”
His expression darkened.
“What do they think?”
“You heard none of it?”
“I avoid town.”
She believed him.
Evelyn looked at the fire.
“They think I am too large.”
Caleb stared.
She laughed bitterly.
“Your face.”
“What about it?”
“You genuinely don't understand.”
“No.”
“Women are supposed to be small.”
“Why?”
She looked at him.
Caleb seemed serious.
“So men feel large?”
“I already feel large.”
Evelyn laughed.
He smiled slightly.
Her laughter faded.
“Thomas said I would be prettier if I lost weight.”
“Thomas?”
“Second fiancé.”
Caleb's smile vanished.
“He sounds stupid.”
“He probably was.”
“You still wanted to marry him.”
“I was lonely.”
That answer struck Caleb.
He understood too well.
Evelyn looked at him.
“And you?”
“What?”
“Why eight years?”
Caleb stared at the fire.
“My wife died.”
Evelyn became still.
“You were married?”
“Yes.”
“What was her name?”
“Sarah.”
“How?”
“Childbirth.”
Evelyn's heart sank.
“The baby?”
“Also.”
Caleb stood.
Walked to the window.
Evelyn remained seated.
“No doctor?”
“Storm.”
The word explained too much.
“Like this one?”
“Worse.”
His voice became distant.
“I left for help.”
“You had to.”
“I returned alone.”
Evelyn understood the rumors now.
Not all.
Enough.
“Rebecca?”
“My sister was with Sarah.”
His jaw tightened.
“She blamed herself.”
“For what?”
“For not saving her.”
“She could not.”
“I told her.”
Caleb looked toward the photograph.
“She did not believe me.”
“What happened?”
“Six months later she married a man in Black Creek.”
Evelyn waited.
“He beat her.”
Her stomach tightened.
“I went to get her.”
Caleb's hands curled.
“He pulled a gun.”
“Oh.”
“I shot him.”
Understanding arrived.
“Your brother.”
“Brother-in-law.”
“The story changed.”
“Stories do that.”
“Rebecca?”
“Moved east.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
Relief.
“Then why do people say you killed your brother?”
“More entertaining.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“You saved your sister.”
Caleb turned sharply.
“I killed a man.”
“Both can be true.”
He stared.
Evelyn met his gaze.
Caleb looked away first.
That night, another storm moved over the ridge.
Not as powerful.
Enough to rattle windows.