Evelyn woke from a dream of the stagecoach breaking apart.
She sat up.
Breathing too quickly.
The cabin was dark.
“Evelyn?”
Caleb's voice from below.
She had been sleeping in the loft.
“Yes.”
“You all right?”
“No.”
Silence.
Then:
“Want me up there?”
The question surprised her.
“Yes.”
Caleb climbed the ladder.
He stopped several feet from the bed.
Evelyn wore only a blue nightdress Caleb had found in Rebecca's old trunk.
His eyes moved away immediately.
She noticed.
“Sit.”
He did.
Not beside her.
On the floor.
Evelyn frowned.
“You carried me two miles.”
“Yes.”
“You can sit on a mattress.”
Caleb hesitated.
Then sat at the edge.
Evelyn's breathing slowly steadied.
“What did you dream?”
“The coach.”
He nodded.
“I heard wood breaking.”
Caleb looked toward the dark window.
“You're safe.”
“I know.”
“Body sometimes takes longer to learn than mind.”
She looked at him.
“You sound experienced.”
“I am.”
Evelyn reached for his hand.
Caleb froze.
She stopped.
“May I?”
He looked surprised.
“Yes.”
She took it.
His hand was enormous around hers.
Warm.
Scarred.
Solid.
The contact calmed her.
Caleb's thumb moved once across her knuckles.
Then stopped.
Evelyn looked at him.
“You are very careful.”
“I wasn't always.”
“With women?”
“With anger.”
She studied his face.
“I don't think you're dangerous.”
“You should.”
“Why?”
Caleb laughed bitterly.
“Because people are telling one true thing beneath all the lies.”
“What?”
“I know what I'm capable of.”
Evelyn shifted closer.
Caleb noticed.
“Don't.”
The same warning.
But softer.
She almost smiled.
“Still terrible at warnings?”
“Yes.”
“Caleb.”
“What?”
“I am not afraid.”
“You should be.”
“Stop deciding that for me.”
His eyes lifted.
Evelyn moved closer.
“People have spent years deciding things for me.”
Caleb listened.
“They decided grief made me cursed.”
Closer.
“They decided my body made me undesirable.”
Closer.
“They decided two dead men meant I should stop expecting a third to choose me.”
Caleb's jaw tightened.
“You believe them?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Most days.”
That honesty changed something.
Caleb's hand turned beneath hers.
Their fingers intertwined.
Evelyn whispered, “Do you?”
“Believe what?”
“That I'm undesirable.”
He stared at her.
For several seconds he looked almost angry.
“No.”
The answer came with such certainty that Evelyn's throat tightened.
Caleb continued.
“I have been trying not to look at you for four days.”
A flush spread across her cheeks.
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“I want you to say it.”
Caleb's eyes darkened.
“You enjoy making this difficult.”
“Yes.”
He leaned closer.
Stopped.
“I want you.”
Evelyn's breath caught.
“More than is sensible.”
Closer.
“More than I should while you're recovering under my roof.”
His voice dropped.
“And enough that if you keep looking at me like that, you're going to make eight years of discipline feel very short.”
Evelyn smiled.
Then she placed his hand against her waist.
Caleb froze.
The softness beneath his palm destroyed whatever remained of his composure.
“Evelyn.”
“If I want you to stop, I'll tell you.”
His eyes searched hers.
“And if you don't?”
“I'll tell you that too.”
Caleb bent slowly.
Their lips met.
The kiss was gentle.
Almost frustratingly gentle.
Evelyn's hands moved into his hair.
Caleb pulled away.
“Still all right?”
She stared.
“You carried me through twelve feet of snow and this is what frightens you?”
“Yes.”
Her expression softened.
“Why?”
“Because you had no choice then.”
His hand remained at her waist.
“You do now.”
Evelyn kissed him again.
That became her answer.
The storm cleared the following morning.
Sunlight struck the snow so brightly that Evelyn had to shield her eyes.
Caleb saddled his horse.
“You're leaving?”
“Checking the road.”
“You're not taking me back?”
“Not today.”
She tried not to look relieved.
He noticed anyway.
“You don't want to go?”
“Do you want me gone?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Evelyn smiled.
Caleb frowned.
“Do not enjoy that.”
“I absolutely will.”
He mounted.
“Stay inside.”
“Is that an order?”
“Advice.”
“Better.”
Caleb rode toward the ridge.
He found tracks.
Not stagecoach tracks.
Horse tracks.
Old enough to predate the worst snow.
Three riders.
They approached the road from the southern tree line.
Stopped near the curve where the coach later went over.
One set went directly toward a support post along the road.
Caleb dismounted.
Snow had hidden most evidence.
Not all.
The wooden guard rail had been cut.
Not broken.
Sawed halfway through.
Then likely snapped beneath impact.
Caleb's stomach tightened.
The wreck was not an accident.
He returned to the cabin before sunset.
Evelyn immediately noticed his expression.
“What?”
“Coach was sabotaged.”
Her face drained.
“What?”
Caleb explained.
“Who would do that?”
“I don't know.”
Evelyn stared at the floor.
Then she remembered something.
“One passenger.”
“What?”
“The railway man.”
Caleb sat.
“What about him?”
“His name was Henry Mason.”
“You spoke?”
“At the station.”
“What did he say?”
“Very little.”
She searched memory.
“He carried a leather case chained to his wrist.”
Caleb had seen no chained case.
“What kind?”
“Black.”
“Was it still attached after the crash?”
“I don't know.”
Caleb thought of the dead railway man.
His wrist had been bare.
“Someone took it.”
Evelyn looked toward the window.
“Robbery?”
“Possibly.”
Two days later, riders arrived.
Sheriff Daniel Brooks.
Dr. Matthew Hale.
And a third man Caleb disliked immediately.
Silas Crane.
Owner of the Red Hollow Freight Company.
He entered the cabin before being invited.
Then saw Evelyn.
His expression transformed.
“My God.”
She stiffened.
“Mr. Crane.”
“You're alive.”
The phrasing bothered Caleb.
Not thank God.
Not we thought you were dead.
Simply astonishment.
Evelyn noticed too.
Sheriff Brooks explained that the stagecoach had failed to arrive.
Searchers had been unable to reach Hollow Ridge until morning.
Caleb told them where the bodies were.
Then he mentioned the cut rail.
Crane interrupted.
“Storm could have split it.”
“Cut marks don't come from storms.”
Sheriff Brooks looked at him.
“You certain?”
“Yes.”
Crane's jaw tightened.
“Ward's been alone too long. He sees enemies in pine trees.”