Blackwood did neither.
His face had become cold.
“This isn't finished.”
Jed looked at him.
“No.”
He nodded toward the sheriff.
“It isn't.”
Dugan began gathering the coins.
The auction was suspended.
Not everything solved.
But stopped.
For today.
That was enough.
Blackwood stepped toward Eleanor.
“You think this animal can save you?”
Jed moved between them immediately.
Eleanor touched his arm.
“Don't.”
Jed stopped.
She looked directly at Blackwood.
“I don't need him to save me.”
Blackwood smiled.
Eleanor continued.
“I needed one person in this town to stop helping you bury me.”
The smile faded.
Jed’s eyes shifted toward her.
Something like respect appeared there.
Blackwood turned and walked away.
The crowd slowly dispersed.
Without an auction, there was nothing left to entertain them.
Within twenty minutes the street looked ordinary again.
Eleanor stood beside the wagon.
Jed lifted one of her trunks into the back.
“You don't have to come with me.”
She looked toward him.
“You announced to the entire town that I was.”
“I said you had somewhere to go.”
“You also made that comment about your bed.”
Jed froze.
Eleanor almost smiled.
He looked suddenly less formidable.
“I did not say bed.”
“You implied it.”
“I said cabin.”
“You said warmth.”
“Mountain cabins require warmth.”
She stared.
Jed looked away.
“Mrs. Vance—”
“Eleanor.”
He looked back.
“Eleanor.”
“Yes?”
“If you're uncomfortable—”
She stepped closer.
“You stood in front of half this town and called yourself brave enough for me.”
His jaw tightened.
“I didn't say brave.”
“Would you like me to go ask Blackwood what he heard?”
Jed exhaled.
“You enjoy watching me suffer.”
“For the first time today.”
Her smile faded.
“I think I might.”
Jed looked at her for a long moment.
Then something rare happened.
He smiled.
Not much.
But enough.
“Get in the wagon, Eleanor.”
She lifted one eyebrow.
“Bossy.”
“It's getting dark.”
“Still bossy.”
He held out his hand to help her climb.
Eleanor took it.
The road out of Cedar Rock wound gradually upward.
Town buildings became smaller behind them.
The wagon rattled through ruts.
For nearly an hour they said nothing.
Eleanor wore Jed’s buffalo coat because the wind had turned sharp.
It smelled of smoke.
Pine.
And him.
She tried not to think about that last part.
Failed.
Finally she asked:
“How did Nathan know you?”
Jed kept his eyes on the road.
“Logging camp.”
“Nathan never worked logging.”
“One season.”
Eleanor stared.
“He told me he worked cattle near Helena.”
Jed glanced at her.
“He was terrible at lying.”
“Apparently not.”
Jed smiled.
“He worked logging for six months.”
“Why?”
“Needed money for land.”
Eleanor looked back toward Cedar Rock.
Her land.
Nathan’s land.
“Our farm?”
“Yes.”
She swallowed.
“He never told me.”
“Probably didn't want you knowing how close he came to losing an arm.”
Eleanor turned sharply.
“What?”
Jed grimaced.
“Forget I said that.”
“No.”
“Eleanor.”
“What happened?”
Jed sighed.
“Tree kicked.”
“And?”
“He got pinned.”
“And?”
“I got him out.”
Eleanor stared.
“So Nathan owed you.”
“No.”
“He asked you to protect me because you saved his life?”
Jed shook his head.
“He asked because we were friends.”
“Friends who barely saw each other.”
“Some friendships don't need frequent maintenance.”
Eleanor smiled faintly.
“That sounds like something two men would say to avoid admitting they missed each other.”
Jed looked offended.
“We did not miss each other.”
“Of course.”
“He talked too much.”
“Still.”
“He borrowed my knife and never returned it.”
“Heartbreaking.”
Jed looked sideways at her.
“You're enjoying this too much.”
“Possibly.”
Darkness came before they reached the mountain cabin.
They stopped near a stand of pines.
Jed built a fire.
Eleanor sat wrapped in his coat.
He handed her bread.
Cheese.
Dried meat.
She looked at the food.
“You travel like an unmarried man.”
Jed sat opposite.
“What does that mean?”
“Everything is brown.”
He examined the meal.
“Food has colors?”
Eleanor laughed.
The sound surprised her.
She had not laughed like that since Nathan died.
Jed heard the change too.
His expression softened.
They ate.
Later, Eleanor lay near the fire beneath blankets while Jed sat upright several feet away.
“You're sleeping there?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked confused.
“Where else?”
She looked toward the open bedroll beside her.
“There's room.”
Jed became very interested in the fire.
Eleanor smiled.
“Mr. Cain.”
“Yes.”
“You implied a great deal in town.”
“I was trying to shut Blackwood up.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m trying not to be inappropriate with a grieving widow who lost her home this morning.”
Eleanor studied him.
The answer reached deeper than flirtation.
“Thank you.”
Jed looked at her.
“For what?”
“For remembering that.”
“I won't forget.”
She touched the empty portion of the blanket.
“Still.”
His eyes dropped to her hand.
Then back.
“You're cold?”
“Yes.”
Jed hesitated.
Then lay down beside her.
Not touching.
A full foot between them.
Eleanor stared at the space.
“You're very respectful.”
“I’m trying.”
“You look uncomfortable.”
“I am.”
She smiled into the darkness.
“Good.”
Jed groaned.
“You truly are enjoying this.”
“More every minute.”
The mountains changed Eleanor.
Not immediately.
At first, everything hurt.
The wagon ride.
The climb.
Cold mornings.
Water buckets.
Splitting kindling.
Even sleeping in the loft made muscles ache that she had forgotten existed.
Jed never treated her as fragile.
But he never humiliated her for struggling either.
When she burned bread, he scraped away the black crust.
“Less wood next time.”
When she slipped trying to carry water, he caught the bucket before her.
Not her.
That annoyed her.
“You saved the water.”
“We need water.”
“I nearly fell.”
“You recovered.”
“You're terrible at romance.”
Jed stared.
“Was that romance?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Jed.”
“Yes?”
“Hopeless.”
But he carved her a stool.
Wide.
Strong.
Built for her body rather than forcing her body to fit furniture made by someone else.
Eleanor ran her hand over the smooth wood.
“You made this?”
“Yes.”
“For me?”
“The other stool hurts your hip.”
She looked at him.
“You noticed?”
Jed seemed confused by the question.
“Of course.”
Tears came so quickly she turned away.
Jed panicked.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Eleanor.”
“Stop talking.”
“I did something wrong.”
“No.”
“Then why are you crying?”
She wiped her eyes angrily.
“Because you made me a chair.”
He stared.
“I can make another.”
She laughed through tears.
“Come here.”
Jed hesitated.
Eleanor held out both hands.
He approached.
She wrapped her arms around his waist.
For a moment his hands hovered above her back.
Then settled.
Carefully.
One high between her shoulders.
One at her waist.
Eleanor pressed her cheek against his chest.
“You're shaking.”
Jed said:
“Cold.”
“You're lying.”
“Yes.”
She looked up.