If Emmeline was alive, he could bring her back to town, parade her before Lord Sterling and the town council, prove that he had 'rescued' her or that she had simply been lost, and restore his honor. Once the contract with Sterling was signed, he could send her away to a private asylum in the east where she would never be seen again.
"Get my horse," Harrison commanded his foreman that night. "And get four armed men from the mill. We're going up Bear Mountain."
It was a quiet Tuesday morning when the sharp sound of iron horseshoes striking gravel broke the silence of the high clearing.
Gideon was inside the barn, shoeing his heavy draft horse, while Emmeline was in the front yard, tending to a raised bed of medicinal herbs she had planted along the south wall of the cabin.
Hearing the heavy thump of multiple horses, Emmeline stood up, leaning comfortably on her hickory crutches. She looked toward the tree line, expecting to see a local hunter or a wandering trader.
Instead, five horses burst into the clearing. Leading them was Harrison Vaughn, dressed in a heavy riding coat, his face dark with suppressed rage and pride. Behind him rode four rough-looking timber workers armed with rifles and heavy leather whips.
Emmeline’s heart seized in her chest. The old, familiar terror—the cold shadow of her childhood—threatened to wash over her. But as her fingers gripped the solid, hand-carved hickory of her crutches, she felt the anchor of the mountain beneath her feet. She did not run. She stood her ground, her chin raised high.
Harrison pulled his horse to a sharp halt, staring at his daughter. He saw her sun-bronzed skin, her bright eyes, and the calm, steady way she stood. There was no terror, no cowering, no begging.
"Emmeline," Harrison barked, his voice filled with fake paternal authority. "So the trapper spoke the truth. You survived."
"I survived, Father," Emmeline said, her voice clear and cool as mountain spring water. "No thanks to you."
Harrison’s jaw tightened. "You will pack your things immediately. You are coming back to Blackwood. Your mother and sister have been beside themselves with grief, and we have brought you home where you belong."
Emmeline let out a short, soft laugh—a sound so devoid of belief that Harrison flushed red. "Grief? You left me trapped in a sinking carriage in Stone Creek. You walked away while I screamed for help. You came up this mountain not out of love, but because my survival threatens whatever lie you told the town."
"InSOLENT GIRL!" Harrison roared, dismounting his horse with a heavy thud. He took two step toward her, his hand raised as if to strike her as he had done when she was a child. "You are my daughter! You are a minor under my legal care! You will do as you are told, or I will have my men drag you down this mountain in chains!"
"Touch her, and you won't leave this clearing alive."
The voice came from the shadow of the barn door. Low, deep, and vibrating with an ancient, murderous fury.
Gideon stepped out into the bright morning sunlight. He was holding a massive double-bitted felling axe in his right hand, resting it casually over his broad shoulder. His gray eyes were locked on Harrison Vaughn with the terrifying intensity of a mountain grizzly defending its territory.
Harrison’s men immediately shifted nervously in their saddles. They knew who Gideon Vance was. In the timber camps, stories of the mountain man’s strength were legendary.
"Vance," Harrison sneered, trying to maintain his stance. "This is a private family matter. Step aside. You have harbored a runaway minor, and I can have the sheriff arrest you for kidnapping."
"The sheriff knows where I live," Gideon said, walking slowly forward until he stood between Harrison and Emmeline. He planted the heavy head of his axe into the dirt with a dull thud. "And the sheriff knows you left this girl to drown in Stone Creek three months ago. The whole town knows it, Vaughn."
Harrison’s face turned white, then dark purple. "She is broken! She is a cripple who cannot survive on her own! She belongs in my house, where she can be properly cared for!"
"Look at her," Gideon commanded, his voice thunderous.
Harrison involuntary looked past Gideon’s broad shoulder at Emmeline.
She stood straight, her weight distributed evenly on her hickory supports. Her body was strong, her arms toned from hard work, her skin radiant with health. There was no trace of the pale, helpless invalid he had locked away in his estate library.
"She built that garden," Gideon said softly, pointing a finger at the neat rows of green plants. "She prepares medicine that heals people in the valley. She survived a river that would have broken your spine. She is stronger than you, Harrison Vaughn. She is stronger than your money, stronger than your men, and stronger than your cowardly heart."
"Take her!" Harrison screamed at his four hired men, pointing a shaking finger at Emmeline. "I pay you to work! Drag her to the spare horse!"
The four men hesitated, looking at Gideon. Gideon didn't raise his axe. He simply shifted his footing, his massive frame blocking the path, his eyes promise ruin to any man who took a step forward.
"The first man who dismounts," Gideon said quietly, "doesn't walk back down the mountain."
The men looked at Gideon's heavy axe, looked at his cold, iron expression, and then looked at each other. None of them moved.
"You fools!" Harrison yelled, seizing the reins of his foreman’s horse. "I’ll double your wages! Get her!"