” Sarah let out a sound that was half laugh, half sobb, and then to Delila’s surprise, she threw her arms around her in an impulsive hug.

Delilah stiffened for a moment, unused to such open affection, but then she relaxed and hugged the girl back.

Over Sarah’s shoulder, she caught Zeke’s eye.

He was watching them with an expression of such profound relief that she felt something shift in her chest, some barrier she had not known she was maintaining beginning to crumble.

This was going to be more complicated than she had anticipated.

But as Sarah pulled back, wiping her eyes and laughing at herself, Delila thought that perhaps complicated was not necessarily bad.

Perhaps it was just what she needed.

Zeke unloaded the wagon with efficient speed, carrying supplies into the cabin as though the heavy bags weighed nothing at all.

Sarah led Delilah inside, chattering nervously about the layout and apologizing for the rough conditions, but Delilah found the cabin charming in its rustic simplicity.

The main room was large and open with a stone fireplace dominating one wall and a sturdy table with benches in the center.

Shelves lined another wall holding dishes, cooking implements, and a surprising number of books.

A ladder led up to a loft area where Delila could see bed rolls and blankets.

Two doors opened off the main room leading to what appeared to be small bedrooms.

“Ze built the cabin himself,” Sarah said proudly.

“It took him two years working between his trapping and hunting.

He wanted it to be solid enough to last generations.

” “It is impressive,” Delilah said honestly.

>> [snorts] >> The craftsmanship was evident in every joint and beam.

This was not the rough shack she had been half expecting, but a real home built with care and skill.

“You can have this room,” Sarah said, opening one of the doors to reveal a small but tidy space with a narrow bed, a chest of drawers, and a window that looked out toward the mountains.

“I have been using it, but I can move my things to the loft.

Zeke sleeps in the other room.

” “I cannot take your room,” Delilah protested.

Please, Sarah said, her brown eyes earnest.

I want you to have it.

I like sleeping in the loft anyway.

It feels cozy up there.

Delilah recognized that this was important to Sarah, a way of welcoming her and making her feel wanted.

She nodded her acceptance, and Sarah beamed at her.

Zeke appeared in the doorway carrying Delila’s carpet bag.

He had to duck slightly to avoid hitting his head on the frame.

“Settling in?” he asked.

“Yes,” Delilah said.

Thank you for the room.

You will earn it, Zeke said.

But there was warmth in his tone.

Tomorrow I need to check my trap lines, which means I will be gone most of the day.

Sarah can show you around, introduce you to the routine.

I can do that, Sarah said eagerly.

Oh, this will be so wonderful.

I will finally have someone to talk to about things that matter.

Zeke caught Delilah’s eye and winked, a quick conspiratorial gesture that made her want to smile.

Then he withdrew, leaving the two women alone.

That night, Delilah experienced her first meal in the mountain cabin.

To her surprise, Zeke was not a terrible cook.

He made a venison stew that was hearty and flavorful with wild onions and carrots that Sarah said came from their garden over the summer.

They ate by lamplight at the big table.

Sarah chattering happily about everything and nothing.

While Zeke listened with obvious affection for his sister, Delilah found herself relaxing in a way she had not relaxed in years.

There was something about the isolation, the sense of being removed from the judgment and pettiness of town life that allowed her to let down her guard.

She contributed to the conversation when appropriate, but mostly she observed, learning the dynamics of this small household she had just joined.

When Sarah asked about her past, Delilah was honest but brief.

“I grew up in Boston,” she said.

“My parents died when I was 16.

I went to San Francisco to live with an aunt, but we did not get along.

I’ve been on my own since I was 18, working where I could find employment.

That must have been difficult, Sarah said sympathetically.

It taught me to be independent, Delilah replied.

And to recognize that I cannot rely on anyone but myself.

You can rely on us now, Sarah said with simple certainty.

We take care of each other here.

Zeke said nothing, but his eyes rested on Delila with an expression she could not quite read.

She felt heat rise to her cheeks and looked down at her bowl, suddenly flustered in a way that irritated her.

She was not some sering girl to be affected by a man’s regard.

She was a grown woman who had survived on her own wits and strength for years.

But when she looked up again and found Zeke still watching her, something in her chest fluttered like a trapped bird.

The days that followed established a rhythm that felt both strange and natural.

Zeke was often gone checking his extensive trap lines or hunting for meat to supplement their stores.

When he was home, he worked on maintaining the cabin and outuildings, chopping wood, repairing tools, doing the hundred small tasks required to keep a mountain homestead functioning.

He spoke little, but always with purpose, and Delilah found herself listening for his voice, for the sound of his boots on the cabin floor.

Sarah was a delight, if occasionally exhausting in her enthusiasm.

She was hungry for companionship and conversation, and she attached herself to Delilah like a devoted puppy.

They worked together on household tasks with Delilah teaching her the practical skills her sheltered upbringing had not included.

Delilah showed her how to bake bread that did not come out heavy as stone, how to mend clothes so the stitches were nearly invisible, how to render fat for soap and candles, but more than that, they talked.

Sarah had opinions about everything from literature to politics.

ideas that had been fermenting in her mind with no one to share them with.

She had read widely but experienced little, and her view of the world was both naive and surprisingly insightful.

Delila found herself challenged in ways she had not expected, forced to examine her own assumptions and beliefs.

“Do you think women will ever be able to vote?” Sarah asked one afternoon as they worked together on a quilt, their needles flashing in the autumn sunlight that streamed through the windows.

I do not know, Delilah said honestly.

I hope so.

But men are reluctant to share power and voting is the ultimate power in a democracy.

Zeke says women should vote.

Sarah said he says it is ridiculous that half the population has no say in how the country is governed.

Delilah glanced up surprised.

He said that he has progressive ideas about many things.

Sarah said he just does not talk about them much because most men think he is strange enough already living up here alone.

Well, not alone anymore, she added with a smile.

Delilah absorbed this information, filing it away with the other observations she had been collecting about Zeke Pearson.

He was an interesting contradiction, a man of violence and survival skills, who nevertheless had a surprisingly gentle soul.

She had seen him spend an hour carving a wooden comb for Sarah with infinite patience, the delicate work at odds with his massive hands.

She had heard him sing softly to his horses as he groomed them, old ballads in a voice that was rough but oddly melodic, and she had felt his eyes on her more than once when he thought she was not looking.

It was not the predatory gaze she had learned to recognize in men like Tucker, the one that made her skin crawl.

This was different, contemplative, and almost wondering, as though he was trying to solve a puzzle he had not expected to encounter.

3 weeks into her stay, something happened that changed everything.

Zeke had been gone since dawn, checking the trap lines in the higher elevations.

Delila and Sarah were working in the clearing, taking advantage of a warm afternoon to wash bedding and hang it to dry.

They were laughing over something Sarah had said, their hands red from the cold water when three men rode into the clearing.

Delilah knew instantly that something was wrong.

These were not friendly visitors.

The men sat their horses with the casual arrogance of those who believed themselves entitled to whatever they wanted, and their eyes as they surveyed the cabin, and the two women were calculating and cold.

Well, well, said the leader, a lean man with a scar running from his temple to his jaw.

Looks like the rumors are true.

The mountain man does have women up here.

Sarah had gone pale, pressing close to Delilah’s side.

Delila put a protective arm around the girl’s shoulders and faced the men squarely, though her heart was hammering against her ribs.

“State your business and then leave,” she said, keeping her voice steady.

“You are trespassing on private property.

” The scarred man laughed and it was not a pleasant sound.

Private property.

You hear that, boys? The little lady thinks she can tell us what to do.

I think you should leave before the owner returns.

Delilah said Zeke Pearson does not take kindly to uninvited guests.

Zeke Pearson, one of the other men said nervously.

Maybe we should go, Cole.

You know what they say about him.

They say he is one man, Cole replied, his eyes never leaving Delilah.

and we are three.

Besides, he’s not here right now, is he? Just two women all alone.

Seems ashamed not to be neighborly.

He dismounted and the other two followed his example with obvious reluctance.

Delilah’s mind raced, calculating distances and options.

The cabin was 20 ft away, and her daringer was inside in her room.

Zeke’s weapons were locked in a trunk he kept in his bedroom.

There was an axe leaning against the wood pile, but it was behind the men, out of reach.

Sarah, she said quietly.

Go inside and lock the door.

I’m not leaving you, Sarah whispered, her voice shaking.

Do as I say, Delilah ordered, putting steel into her tone.

Now [snorts] Sarah hesitated for one more heartbeat, then turned and ran for the cabin door.

Cole made a move to intercept her, but Delilah stepped into his path, planting herself between him and the fleeing girl.

You want to get to her, you go through me, she said, and she meant every word.

Cole stopped, his scarred face twisting into something ugly.

You have got some nerve, I will give you that.

But you are a woman and not a very big one at that.

What exactly do you think you’re going to do? Whatever I have to, Delilah said.

Her hand slipped into her pocket where she kept a small folding knife she used for mending.

It was not much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing.

The cabin door slammed and she heard the bar drop into place.

Good.

Sarah was safe, at least for the moment.

Now she just had to keep these men occupied until Zeke returned.

If he returned, the trap lines were extensive, and he might not be back until dark.

Here is what is going to happen, Cole said, taking a step closer.

You are going to be nice and friendly.

Like, and we are going to have a pleasant afternoon getting to know each other, and if you cooperate, nobody has to get hurt.

Here is what is actually going to happen.

Delila countered, holding her ground, even though every instinct screamed at her to run.

You are going to get back on your horses and leave.

And if you do not, when Zeke Pearson gets back, he is going to track you down and make you regret the day you were born.

Cole’s hand shot out faster than she expected, grabbing her wrist.

His fingers bit into her flesh painfully, and he twisted, trying to force her to her knees.

Delilah gasped but did not cry out.

Instead, she brought her other hand up, the one holding the folding knife, and slashed at his face.

The blade caught him across the cheek, a shallow cut, but enough to make him roar with pain and anger.

He released her wrist and backhanded her across the face, the blow hard enough to send her staggering.

Stars exploded across her vision, and she tasted blood in her mouth.

“You’re going to regret that,” Cole snarled, advancing on her.

And then a voice rolled across the clearing like thunder, deep and primal and filled with rage.

Touch her again and you are a dead man.

Zeke stood at the edge of the treeine, his rifle leveled at Cole’s chest.

He must have left his horses in the trees and approached on foot, silent as a ghost despite his size.

In that moment, he looked like something out of legend, a figure of vengeance carved from stone and fury.

His pale eyes blazed with an intensity that was almost inhuman, and every line of his massive body radiated lethal intent.

The three intruders froze, their faces going slack with fear.

Even Cole, who had been so confident moments before, took an involuntary step backward.

“Mr.

Pearson,” he began, his voice suddenly consiliatory.

“We did not mean any harm.

We were just being friendly.

” “Friendly?” Zeke repeated, and the word dripped with contempt.

You put your hands on her.

You made my sister afraid.

If that is your idea of friendly, then I would hate to see what you consider hostile.

It was a misunderstanding.

One of the other men stammered.

We will just go right now.

We will leave and never come back.

You will go, Zeke agreed, his rifle never wavering.

But first, you’re going to apologize to Miss Norton on your knees.

Cole’s face flushed red.

I’m not apologizing to some saloon girl.

The crack of the rifle was deafening.

The bullet kicked up dirt inches from Cole’s boots and he jumped backward with a yelp.

The next one goes through your knee, Zeke said calmly.

Then the other knee.

Then we will see how brave you feel.

Now get on your knees and apologize.

Cole looked at the rifle at Zeke’s implacable face and made his decision.

He dropped to his knees in the dirt, his face burning with humiliation.

I apologize, Miss Norton.

I was out of line.

Again, Zeke commanded with sincerity this time.

I am sorry, Cole grounded out, the words clearly costing him.

I should not have touched you or threatened you.

It will not happen again.

Delilah, still touching her throbbing cheek where he had struck her, said nothing.

There was nothing to say.

Apologies meant nothing from men like this.

They were only sorry they had been caught.

“Now get out of here,” Zeke said.

“If I ever see any of you within 10 miles of this property again, I will not bother with warnings.

I will shoot on sight.

Do you understand?” The three men scrambled for their horses with undignified haste, mounting up and spurring away down the trail as though pursued by demons.

Zeke watched them go, his rifle still ready until the sound of hoof beatats faded into the distance.

Only then did he lower the weapon and turned to Delilah.

The rage drained from his face, replaced by concern.

He crossed the clearing in three long strides and reached out as though to touch her injured cheek, then stopped, his hand hovering uncertainly.

“Are you hurt?” “I will have a bruise,” Delilah said, trying to make her voice light and failing.

Now that the danger had passed, she was beginning to shake with reaction.

But I have had worse.

You should not have to have had any, Zeke said fiercely.

I should have been here.

I should have protected you.

You did protect me, Delilah pointed out.

You arrived in time.

Barely, Zeke said.

He looked haunted, his eyes dark with something that might have been fear.

When I came through the trees and saw him hit you, I wanted to kill him.

I have never wanted anything so badly in my life.

The raw honesty in his words made something inside Delilah crack open.

She had spent so long being strong, being independent, refusing to need anyone.

But standing there with her face throbbing and her hands still shaking, she found she did not want to be strong anymore.

Not right now.

I was afraid, she admitted, the words coming out small and broken.

I thought they were going to hurt Sarah.

I thought they were going to hurt me, and no one would know or care.

I would know, Zeke said.

And now his hand did touch her face, cupping her uninjured cheek with a gentleness that seemed impossible from someone so large and dangerous.

I would care.

You matter to Laya Norton.

You matter to Sarah.

And you matter to me.

The way he said her name with that rough tenderness made her heart stutter.

She looked up into his face, seeing past the beard and the weathered skin to the man beneath.

This man who had defended her without hesitation, who had been willing to kill to keep her safe.

This man who looked at her as though she was precious.

“Zeek,” she whispered, not knowing what she wanted to say, but needing to say his name.

The cabin door flew open and Sarah burst out, her face stre with tears.

“Is everyone all right?” “I heard a shot.

” “Dilah, your face.

Oh god, they hurt you.

” The moment shattered and Zeke stepped back, his hand falling away.

But his eyes remained on Delila for one more heartbeat.

And in them she saw everything he was not saying.

Everything that had been building between them since that first night in Willlets when he had defended her against Tucker.

This was dangerous.

This was complicated.

This could end in heartbreak.

But as Delilah let Sarah fuss over her, leading her into the cabin to tend to her injuries, she found she did not care about the danger.

For the first time in her life, she wanted to take the risk.

That night, after Sarah had finally fallen asleep in the loft, Delilah sat by the fire wrapped in a blanket, unable to settle.

Her cheek achd where Cole had hit her, and every time she closed her eyes, she saw his scarred face, felt his hand twisting her wrist.

She knew she should try to sleep.

That exhaustion would make everything worse.

But her mind would not quiet.

The door to Zeke’s room opened and he emerged fully dressed despite the late hour.

He stopped when he saw her sitting there.

“Can?” he asked quietly.

“No,” Delilah admitted.

“Too much has happened today.

” Zeke moved to the fireplace and added another log, sending sparks spiraling up the chimney.

Then he sat down on the bench beside her, close but not touching.

His presence was warm and solid, comforting in a way she had not expected.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he told her, his voice low so as not to wake Sarah.

“You matter to me.

” Delilah pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

“Why? You barely know me.

I know enough.

” Zeke said, “I know you are brave.

I know you stood up to men who meant you harm both in town and today.

I know you have been kind to my sister when you had no obligation to be.

I know that when you talk back to men who think they can intimidate you, it makes my heart beat faster.

Delilah turned to look at him, surprised by the admission.

In the firelight, his profile was all sharp angles and shadows, but there was nothing frightening about him.

He looked tired and worried and somehow younger than his 29 years.

When I saw him hit you, Zeke continued, still staring into the fire.

Something inside me snapped.

I’ve killed animals for food and pelts.

I have fought men when I had to.

Continue reading….
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