Chapter 5
Jedodiah nodded once.
“Then cook.”
Morning arrived pale and silent.
The blizzard had buried the cabin almost to the windowsills.
Matilda woke beneath thick quilts.
For several seconds she didn't know where she was.
Then she smelled coffee.
Jedodiah was downstairs splitting kindling beside the fireplace.
“Storm stopped,” he said.
Matilda looked outside.
The world had become white wilderness.
“How long until the trail clears?”
“Could be days.”
Her heart sank.
Jedodiah noticed.
“You want to go back?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
For the first time, he smiled.
It transformed his face.
He was still frighteningly large, still scarred and wild-haired, but suddenly he looked almost gentle.
Matilda spent the morning exploring his stores.
By noon she had produced biscuits, rabbit gravy, and preserved apple compote.
Jedodiah ate three servings without speaking.
Matilda finally asked, “Is it terrible?”
He looked offended.
“I was considering marrying you.”
She froze.
Jedodiah froze too.
Slowly, his ears turned red beneath his hair.
“I meant because of the biscuits.”
Matilda stared.
Then she laughed so hard she had to sit down.
Jedodiah's embarrassed expression made her laugh harder.
Eventually he began laughing too.
The sound filled the cabin.
For three days, the mountain belonged only to them.
Matilda cooked.
Jedodiah chopped wood, checked traps, and showed her which herbs could treat fever and which berries became poisonous after frost.
At night they talked.
Not constantly.
Jedodiah was a man comfortable with silence.
But he listened.
Really listened.
Matilda told him she had come west from Missouri after her mother died.
She had been promised work as a housekeeper.
Instead, the family that hired her abandoned Leadville after silver prices collapsed.
Abigail had offered her kitchen work.
“Why stay?” Jedodiah asked.
Matilda looked at her hands.
“Because sometimes a bad place feels safer than having nowhere.”
He understood that.
On the fourth morning, Jedodiah discovered tracks.
He crouched outside the cabin.
Matilda watched from the doorway.
“Animal?”
“No.”
His voice changed.
“Horse.”
“Someone came up here?”
“Two riders.”
Matilda's stomach tightened.
“From town?”
“Looks like.”
He followed the tracks toward the tree line.
They ended near the cabin's rear window.
Someone had been watching.
Jedodiah returned carrying something.
A scrap of red cloth.
Matilda recognized it immediately.
Silas Reed's scarf.
“He was here?”
“Maybe.”
That afternoon, they heard bells.
A mule emerged through the trees.
Silas was slumped over its saddle.
Jedodiah ran outside.