"My husband supposedly signed a transfer."
Elias looked up.
"Tomas?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Six years ago."
"After he died?"
Aayoka's eyes became hard.
"They say before."
"Did you ever see the document?"
"No."
"Did Tomas ever mention selling?"
"Never."
"Then this is fraud."
Aayoka looked away.
"Maybe."
"You don't sound surprised."
"I have known for weeks that Rourke wanted my property."
"Why?"
She was silent.
"Why your land?"
"Because of the river."
Elias frowned.
"What river?"
"The small stream beyond the eastern ridge."
He understood.
Water.
That explained everything.
Rourke's cattle operation had been expanding.
The stream crossed Aayoka's land before flowing toward his property.
If Rourke controlled her homestead, he controlled the water.
"How long until the land office review?"
"After Christmas."
"Then we have time."
Aayoka looked at him.
"Do we?"
"We'll make time."
She shook her head.
"You don't understand Caleb Rourke."
"Then tell me."
"He does not ask twice."
Elias folded the letter.
"Neither do I."
Aayoka stared at him.
"Why?"
He looked at her.
"Because I know what it means to lose a home."
Her expression softened.
"You lost yours."
"I lost more than that."
Silence filled the room.
Aayoka sat down.
"Tell me."
Elias did not answer immediately.
The fire crackled.
Outside, the storm continued.
"My wife was Anna."
Aayoka looked at him.
"We had two children."
He stared into the flames.
"Samuel was eight. Clara was five."
Aayoka's face softened.
"What happened?"
"An ambush."
The word came out flat.
"I wasn't there."
He paused.
"I had been away with the cattle."
His voice became quieter.
"When I came home, their coats were still hanging by the door."
Aayoka did not speak.
"There was a cup on the table."
He swallowed.
"Clara's little boot was beside the bed."
The silence became unbearable.
Elias had not spoken about it like this in years.
Not to anyone.
Aayoka reached across the table.
She did not touch him.
She simply placed her hand near his.
"I understand."
He looked at her.
"You lost Tomas."
"Yes."
"How?"
"He was traveling with two other men."
She lowered her eyes.
"They were attacked."
"Rourke?"
"No."
Her answer came quickly.
"Not Rourke."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"You never found out?"
"We found bodies."
She closed her eyes.
"We did not find answers."
Elias knew that kind of grief.
The kind that refused to become a complete story.
He reached for her hand.
Aayoka hesitated.
Then she let him hold it.
Her fingers were cold.
"You should have told someone about Rourke."
"I did."
"Who?"
"The sheriff."
"What did he say?"
"He told me to sell."
Elias's jaw tightened.
"Of course."
Aayoka looked at him.
"You are angry."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I know what it feels like when someone decides your grief makes you weak."
Her eyes filled.
But she did not cry.
"I am not weak."
"I know."
"I will not leave."
"I know."
"I will not let him take the house."
"I know."
"Then why are you looking at me like that?"
"Because I am trying to understand why you came to me."
Aayoka looked down.
"I told you."
"You were lonely."
"Yes."
"But there is more."
She was quiet.
Then she said,
"I knew you would understand."
Elias's chest tightened.
"Why?"
"Because I have watched you."
He smiled faintly.
"You keep saying that."
"Because it is true."
She looked at him.
"You always leave your porch light on."
"I don't."
"You do."
"For the horses."
"You don't have horses in the house."
He laughed.
She smiled.
"Sometimes I saw it from my window."
"And?"
"I knew that if something happened, there was someone awake."
Elias stared at her.
"You thought of me as someone you could call?"
"Maybe."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because I did not want to need anyone."
He understood.
Too well.
"I know that feeling."
Aayoka's hand remained in his.
"Christmas is difficult."
"Yes."
"It makes everything louder."
"The empty rooms."
She nodded.
"The memories."
"The things that should have been."
She looked at him.
"Exactly."
Elias stood.
He walked toward the stove.
"You need more firewood."
"I have enough."
"Not for the night."
"I have enough."
He looked at her.
"You always argue?"
"When I am right."
"That must be exhausting."
"It is."
He smiled.
She shook her head.
Then, unexpectedly, she laughed.
The sound filled the cabin.
Elias stopped.
Aayoka noticed his expression.
"What?"
"I've never heard you laugh."
"Perhaps you have not given me enough reasons."
"I can work on that."
The laughter faded.
Something changed.
The space between them seemed smaller.
Elias returned to the table.
Their hands touched again.
Neither pulled away.
Aayoka whispered,
"I am afraid."
"So am I."
"Of Rourke?"
"No."
She looked into his eyes.
"Then what?"
"Of losing something again."
Her breath caught.
He continued.
"I spent three years believing that if I never cared about anyone again, I could never be hurt again."
"And did it work?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I was still hurt."
Aayoka looked down.
"I thought the same."
The fire burned lower.
Elias added wood.
When he returned, Aayoka was standing near the window.
Snow moved across the glass.