“They stared before.”
“Pike is still there.”
“So?”
“He might cause trouble.”
Evelyn stepped closer.
“Silas.”
“Yes?”
“You bought my freedom.”
“Yes.”
“Do you understand what freedom includes?”
He knew the answer.
“The right to make decisions I dislike.”
“Exactly.”
He rubbed his beard.
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
He nodded.
“I'll take the wagon.”
“I can ride.”
“You can?”
She paused.
“A little.”
“You said that confidently.”
“I hoped you wouldn't ask.”
Silas smiled.
“Wagon.”
“Fine.”
They reached Black Creek before noon.
People noticed immediately.
Evelyn wore her blue dress.
The beige cloth covered her head.
Silas walked beside her.
Amos stood outside the trading post.
His face twisted into a grin.
“Well.”
Silas stopped.
Evelyn did not.
She walked directly toward Amos.
He looked surprised.
“What?”
“You forged my mark.”
Amos glanced at Silas.
“Your mountain husband teaching you law?”
“He isn't my husband.”
The crowd began gathering.
Evelyn continued.
“And he isn't speaking for me.”
Silas stayed six feet behind.
Amos laughed.
“Then what do you want?”
“My trunk.”
His smile disappeared.
“What trunk?”
“The one you removed from the stage before putting me on that wagon.”
“No idea what you're talking about.”
Evelyn stepped closer.
“It contained my clothing, my mother's jewelry, and documents belonging to Henry Hart.”
Amos's face changed.
Barely.
Evelyn noticed.
Silas did too.
“Bring it out.”
Amos laughed.
“You've gotten bold.”
Evelyn's hands trembled.
“Bring it out.”
“Or what?”
That was when Silas moved.
One step.
Evelyn raised her hand without turning.
“Silas.”
He stopped.
The town noticed.
Amos noticed.
Most importantly, Evelyn noticed.
She faced the trader again.
“Or I speak to Sheriff Crowe about the false debt document Silas already gave him.”
Amos stared.
“And then I explain that my husband's papers include receipts connected to your brother's gambling house in St. Louis.”
Silas had never heard that part.
Neither had Amos expected her to remember it.
His face drained.
“Those papers are mine.”
“No.”
“They concern money owed to my family.”
“They concern illegal collections from dead men's widows.”
The crowd went silent.
Sheriff Crowe appeared from the office.
“Pike.”
Amos cursed.
One hour later, Evelyn's trunk sat in the sheriff's office.
The lock had been broken.
Some clothing was missing.
The jewelry was gone.
The documents remained.
Amos had assumed paper was worthless.
That mistake cost him.
Sheriff Crowe found letters linking Amos and his brother to fraudulent debt collections in three states.
The investigation would take months.
But Evelyn had her name back.
Her papers.
Her history.
That afternoon, she and Silas stood beside the wagon.
“You did well,” he said.
Evelyn looked at him through the cloth.
“You wanted to hit him.”
“Yes.”
“Very badly?”
“Yes.”
“How badly?”
“Enough that stopping hurt.”
She laughed.
Then became serious.
“Thank you.”
“For stopping?”
“For listening when I told you to.”
Silas nodded.
“I said you choose.”
“Yes.”
Evelyn touched his sleeve.
“You keep meaning it.”
He looked down at her hand.
“I try.”
Back at the cabin, something changed.
Not dramatically.
No sudden kiss.
No grand declaration.
They simply became more aware of each other.
Evelyn noticed Silas when he removed his coat.
The width of his shoulders.
The way his beard darkened when wet from snow.
The careful strength in his hands.
Silas noticed the shape of her smile even without seeing it, because the cloth moved slightly at the corners.
He learned the sound she made when amused.
He learned when she was tired.
He learned she hummed while baking bread.
He learned she hated thunderstorms.
One evening lightning split the sky.
Evelyn dropped a plate.
Silas found her gripping the table.
“You all right?”
“Yes.”
Thunder shook the cabin.
She flinched.
“No.”
Silas remained across the room.
“What do you need?”
Evelyn looked toward him.
“Sit with me.”
He did.
Another thunderclap.
She moved closer.
Her shoulder touched his arm.
Neither commented.
Then her hand found his.
Silas closed his fingers gently.
Just like the wagon.
Evelyn whispered, “Don't let go yet.”
“I remember.”
When the storm passed, she was still holding him.
The following morning, Silas woke to find Evelyn standing on the porch facing the mountains.
The beige cloth remained.
He handed her coffee.
She accepted it.
“Silas.”
“Yes?”
“I know why I kept this on.”
He waited.
“At first, Pike made me.”
Silas nodded.
“Then I kept it because every man in Black Creek wanted to know what was underneath.”
Her fingers touched the fabric.
“It became the only thing I controlled.”
“That makes sense.”
“But now…”
She stopped.
Silas looked toward the river instead of her.
“Now what?”
“Now I think I'm using it to hide from someone who never asked me to.”
Silas's breathing slowed.
Evelyn turned toward him.
“I want you to see me.”
He finally looked.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“No town.”
“No Pike.”
“No audience.”
She shook her head beneath the cloth.
“Only you.”
Silas set down his coffee.
Evelyn raised both hands.
They trembled.
She lifted the beige linen.
Slowly.
The fabric slid over her hair.
Chestnut-brown hair spilled loose around her shoulders.
Silas saw her forehead first.
Then green-hazel eyes.
Large.
Nervous.
Then delicate cheeks.
A straight nose.
Full rose-colored lips.
Luminous fair skin.
She was astonishingly beautiful.
Not because she was flawless.
A faint scar ran beside her left temple.
Tiredness remained beneath her eyes.
Fear lived there too.
But beauty struck him hard enough that for several seconds he simply stared.
Evelyn's expression changed.
There it was.
The old fear.
“What?”
Silas realized his mistake.
“Nothing.”