She marched back into the cabin, slamming the heavy wooden door behind her and sliding the iron bolt shut.
Inside, she collapsed against the door, sliding down to the floor. She pulled her knees to her chest, burying her face in her arms. She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. She was just so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of being on guard, tired of being seen as nothing more than a thing to be possessed.
Outside, Elias stood in the mud for a long time. The rain battered him, but he barely felt it. He felt sick to his stomach. He had looked at her with admiration, with growing affection, and yes, with desire. But he had been entirely blind to how his gaze felt to a woman who had spent years as a target. He had failed to see the armor she was forced to wear, and in his ignorance, he had confirmed her worst fears.
He walked slowly to the small lean-to shed where he had been sleeping since giving up the bed in the cabin. He didn't pack his saddlebags. He sat in the dark, listening to the rain, wrestling with a shame deeper than any he had ever known.
The storm broke just before dawn, leaving the canyon washed clean and smelling of wet sage and ozone. The sky lightened into a brilliant, cloudless blue.
Inside the cabin, Nayeli awoke. She had slept fitfully on the floor by the door. She unbolted the lock and stepped out onto the porch, her Winchester gripped tightly in her hand. She expected to see Elias saddling his horse, casting angry glares at the cabin.
Instead, the yard was empty. His horse was gone from the corral.
He had left in the night.
A strange, hollow feeling bloomed in Nayeli’s chest. It wasn't regret—she had protected herself, as she always did. But there was a strange quiet to the morning. She walked over to the corral to check on her own horses.
As she approached the water trough, she saw something sitting on top of the wooden fence post.
It was a small, meticulously carved wooden figurine. It was a Red-tailed Hawk, its wings spread wide in flight. Next to it was a piece of folded parchment, weighed down by a small stone.
Nayeli set her rifle down and picked up the paper. It was a page torn from a small ledger book. The handwriting was neat, written with a piece of charcoal from the fire pit.
Nayeli,
You saved my life, and in return, I made you feel unsafe in your own home. For that, there is no apology deep enough, but I offer it anyway. I am so sorry.
You asked if I wanted your body like everyone else. The truth is, I looked at you because I have never seen a woman as strong, as capable, or as fierce as you. I looked at you with respect for the life you have built out of the dust, and with awe for the spirit that keeps you standing. But my intentions do not matter if my actions caused you pain.