“You are not something missing.”
Her breath caught.
“You are a whole person. You were before the fever. You were after it. And you are now.”
She stared at him.
No one had spoken to her that way in years.
Nathaniel reached for her hand.
This time, she did not hesitate.
Their fingers intertwined.
Outside, the storm continued.
Inside, something fragile began to grow.
The next morning, Nathaniel woke before sunrise.
He had fallen asleep sitting against the wall.
A blanket covered his shoulders.
Ayana was sleeping on her narrow bed.
For several minutes, he watched the fire dying in the hearth.
Then he quietly stood, folded the blanket, and stepped outside.
The valley was covered in mist.
Beyond the eastern ridge, the sky glowed pale pink.
Nathaniel walked toward the horse enclosure.
He found Tavish standing near the gate.
The old man did not turn.
“You stayed with my daughter last night.”
Nathaniel stopped.
“The storm was bad.”
“I know.”
“She was safe.”
“I know that too.”
Nathaniel waited.
Tavish rested both hands on his walking stick.
“Do you love her?”
The question came so abruptly that Nathaniel almost laughed.
Almost.
“I don't know.”
The chief turned.
“You don't know?”
“I care about her.”
“That is not the same.”
“No.”
“Then what are your intentions?”
Nathaniel looked toward the mountains.
“I don't have a plan.”
Tavish's expression hardened.
“Men without plans often leave pain behind them.”
Nathaniel met his gaze.
“Men who make plans for other people can do the same.”
The old man stiffened.
For several moments, neither spoke.
Then Tavish looked away.
“You think I have been cruel to her.”
“I think you've been afraid.”
The chief's jaw tightened.
“You know nothing of what I have lost.”
“No,” Nathaniel said. “I don't.”
Tavish turned toward him.
Nathaniel continued.
“But I know what fear can make a man do. I've spent twenty years running because I was afraid to lose another family.”
The old leader studied him.
“And now?”
Nathaniel looked toward Ayana's shelter.
“Now I'm beginning to think running hasn't protected me from anything.”
Tavish followed his gaze.
“My daughter has suffered enough.”
“I know.”
“If you hurt her—”
“I'll answer for it.”
The old man was silent.
Nathaniel took a breath.
“But you need to understand something. Whether she chooses me or not, her life belongs to her.”
Tavish's eyes narrowed.
“You challenge me often, cowboy.”
“Only when you're wrong.”
For one dangerous second, the old man looked as though he might strike him with the walking stick.
Then something unexpected happened.
He laughed.
It was a rough, reluctant sound.
“You are an irritating man.”
“So I've heard.”
Tavish shook his head.
“My daughter has always had a weakness for difficult creatures.”
Nathaniel smiled.
“Then perhaps I stand a chance.”
The peace did not last.
Four days later, a rider arrived carrying a sealed letter.
It bore the stamp of the territorial land office.
Tavish opened it with Nathaniel and Ayana standing beside him.
The message stated that Gideon Hargrove had filed a claim involving the eastern springs.
It further stated that representatives would arrive within thirty days to inspect the disputed area.
Until the matter was settled, unauthorized use of the water could be restricted.
Ayana read the letter twice.
“They are going to take our water.”
Nathaniel's face hardened.
“That's what Hargrove wants.”
Tavish folded the paper carefully.
“Can the old agreement stop them?”
“Possibly,” Nathaniel said. “But we'll need a lawyer. Someone willing to challenge Hargrove.”
Koda shook his head.
“No lawyer in the territory will oppose him.”
“Not openly,” Nathaniel replied.
“Then what do we do?”
Nathaniel looked toward the north.
“There may be one man.”
“Who?”
“Judge Elias Whitcomb.”
Tavish frowned.
“I know that name.”
“He retired two years ago. Lives near Prescott now.”
“Why would he help?”
“Because he once sentenced Hargrove's younger brother for fraud.”
Koda laughed bitterly.
“Then Hargrove will have him killed.”
“Maybe.”
Ayana turned toward Nathaniel.
“You know where he lives?”
“Yes.”
“How far?”
“Three days if the weather holds.”
Tavish considered the situation.
“Then someone must go.”
Nathaniel nodded.
“I will.”
Ayana immediately said, “I'm coming.”
He turned.
“No.”
Her expression sharpened.
“Excuse me?”
“It's dangerous.”
“So was the mission.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
Nathaniel opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Ayana crossed her arms.
“You need someone who knows the history of the valley and the location of the springs. I know both.”
“Koda can explain.”
“Koda wasn't at the mission with my grandmother.”
Nathaniel sighed.
“Ayana—”
“And if you think I'm going to sit here waiting while men decide what happens to my home, then you haven't listened to a word I've said.”
Tavish watched them argue.
A faint smile crossed his face.
Nathaniel finally raised both hands.
“All right.”
Ayana blinked.
“All right?”
“You're coming.”
She looked suspicious.
“That easily?”
“I've discovered arguing with you is a waste of valuable daylight.”
Koda laughed.
Ayana glared at both men.
But later, as she prepared supplies for the journey, Nathaniel noticed she was smiling.
They left before sunrise with three horses, enough food for five days, and the documents secured inside a waterproof leather case.
Koda accompanied them as far as the northern pass.
At the fork where the trail separated, he turned toward Nathaniel.
“I still don't entirely trust you.”
Nathaniel nodded.
“Fair enough.”
“But you came back from the mission.”
“I said I would.”
Koda glanced at Ayana.
“If you don't bring her home, I'll find you.”
Nathaniel looked him in the eye.
“If anything happens to her, you won't have to.”
Koda studied him for a moment.
Then he extended his hand.
Nathaniel shook it.
Ayana watched in silence.
When Koda rode away, she turned toward Nathaniel.
“Men have a strange way of making friends.”
“We haven't made friends.”
“You shook hands.”
“That means he may wait before shooting me.”
She laughed.