Because she needed to know whether Rowan would stop her.

He found her standing by the open cabin door.

Melting snow dripped from the roof.

Beyond her, the mountain road curved between pines.

“Rowan…”

He looked at the bag.

Then at her.

“You said when spring came, I could leave.”

“I did.”

Her fingers tightened.

“And if I stay?”

His breath caught.

For months he had rehearsed a thousand versions of this moment.

Every one disappeared.

Lydia stepped toward him.

“Do you actually want me to stay?”

Rowan looked at her for a long time.

When he answered, his voice was rough.

“Yes.”

Lydia closed her eyes.

Rowan continued.

“But not because I paid your father.”

She opened them.

“Not because you cook.”

A small smile trembled.

“Not because you mend my shirts better than I deserve.”

“Much better.”

“I know.”

He stepped closer.

“I want you here because when you’re gone from a room, I notice.”

Lydia’s breath changed.

“I want you here because this place stopped feeling like a place I was hiding and started feeling like home.”

Her eyes filled.

Rowan’s voice lowered.

“And that scares me more than anything has in years.”

“Why?”

“Because I can lose you.”

She whispered, “You can only lose people who were free to stay.”

That sentence undid him.

Rowan lifted one hand.

Stopped before touching her cheek.

Lydia leaned into it.

The permission was small.

Everything about it mattered.

He kissed her forehead.

Nothing more.

Not yet.

Lydia smiled through tears.

“I suppose I unpack.”

“No rush.”

“Rowan.”

“Yes?”

“I am going to throw that answer into the creek one day.”

“What answer?”

“No rush.”

He laughed.

And for one bright minute, the world was simple.

Then a rifle shot shattered the window.

Rowan threw Lydia to the floor.

A second bullet struck the wall.

“Stay down!”

He crawled toward the rifle.

Outside, horses thundered.

Not one.

Several.

Rowan reached the window.

Silas Bell stood near the tree line with three armed men.

And behind them—

Amos Voss.

Lydia’s father.

Bell shouted, “Creed!”

Rowan raised the rifle.

“Next shot comes through you.”

Bell lifted both hands.

“We’re here under legal authority.”

“Funny-looking court.”

A man beside Bell displayed a badge.

Deputy Harker.

Rowan knew him.

Didn’t trust him.

Harker called, “Rowan, put the rifle down. Warrant from Judge Merritt.”

“For what?”

“Stolen property.”

Rowan’s expression darkened.

Bell smiled.

“Not the land.”

His eyes shifted toward Lydia inside the cabin.

“The girl.”

9
Lydia stood before Rowan could stop her.

Bell’s smile widened.

“Miss Voss.”

Amos shouted, “Come out here.”

Lydia looked at Rowan.

He shook his head.

“Don’t.”

Amos yelled again.

“You hear me?”

Lydia stepped to the broken window.

For years that voice had commanded her body before her mind could resist.

Not now.

“What do you want?”

Amos stared as though the fact she had answered at all offended him.

“You stole papers belonging to your mother.”

Lydia almost laughed.

“You told me she left nothing.”

“Because you had no business with it.”

“Apparently I had six hundred and forty acres of business.”

Bell’s pleasant expression vanished.

So they knew.

Lydia continued.

“You declared me dead.”

Amos went pale.

For a heartbeat nobody moved.

Bell recovered first.

“Careful, Miss Voss. Accusations without proof—”

“We have proof.”

Rowan watched Bell.

That had been a mistake.

Bell now knew the papers survived.

Harker shifted uneasily.

“Rowan, warrant says Miss Voss is under guardianship due to mental incapacity and was unlawfully removed.”

Lydia stared.

“What?”

Amos raised a folded document.

“She isn’t capable of managing property. Never has been.”

Rowan’s voice became dangerous.

“She is twenty-three.”

“Guardianship can continue.”

“Not without a court finding.”

Bell said, “Judge Merritt signed one.”

Lydia’s face changed.

“When?”

Bell smiled.

“Four years ago.”

“I never saw a judge.”

“You were represented.”

“By whom?”

“Your father.”

Rowan understood.

Another forged proceeding.

Another paper prison.

Harker looked uncomfortable.

“I have to enforce the warrant.”

Rowan raised the rifle.

“No.”

“Don’t make this worse.”

“Hard to imagine.”

Lydia put a hand on Rowan’s arm.

He looked at her.

“If we shoot our way out,” she whispered, “Bell wins.”

“I won’t let them take you.”

“They’re counting on that.”

He knew she was right.

Bell wanted Rowan violent.

Wanted witnesses.

Wanted him jailed or dead.

Lydia looked toward the canvas bag.

The evidence was inside.

She made a decision.

“I’ll go.”

Rowan turned sharply.

“No.”

“Listen.”

“No.”

“Rowan.”

She gripped his coat.

“If I run, I’m guilty. If you fight, you’re guilty. If we go to town, we put those papers in front of everyone.”

“They can make papers disappear.”

“Then we make sure enough people see them.”

Bell shouted, “Decision?”

Lydia stepped into the doorway.

“I’ll come.”

Amos smiled.

She added, “But Rowan comes too.”

Bell’s smile vanished.

Harker said, “He’s not under arrest.”

“Then he can ride.”

Rowan looked at her.

Lydia whispered, “Trust me.”

The words came back to him from the storm.

I trust you.

He lowered the rifle.

Town had never looked so ugly.

The same boardwalk.

The same feed store.

The same men.

Word had spread before they arrived.

By the time Lydia dismounted, dozens of people had gathered.

She felt the old humiliation rising.

Then Rowan stepped beside her.

Not in front.

Beside.

Bell noticed.

So did Amos.

Judge Merritt held court in the upstairs room of the territorial office.

He was seventy, white-haired, and looked annoyed that life had interrupted lunch.

Bell presented first.

Guardianship.

Mental incapacity.

Removal by Rowan Creed.

Improper influence.

The words sounded clean.

Respectable.

Nothing like the street where Lydia had been priced beside livestock.

Then Judge Merritt asked Rowan, “Did you pay Amos Voss fifty dollars?”

“Yes.”

The room murmured.

“And did you then take Miss Voss to your property?”

“Yes.”

Bell smiled.

“Did she voluntarily accompany you?”

Rowan looked at Lydia.

“She stood up and followed me.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

Rowan’s voice hardened.

“She had just been offered to strangers by her father. You tell me how free that choice was.”

Silence.

Bell said, “Mr. Creed admits the transaction.”

“I admit paying.”

“For Lydia.”

“No.”

Bell smiled.

“What else did you receive?”

“Nothing.”

“You took her.”

“I took her bag.”

A few people laughed.

Judge Merritt struck the desk.

“Enough.”

Bell produced Rowan’s land deed.

“And Mr. Creed’s motive becomes clearer. Miss Voss has recently begun making claims against his property. Claims which appeared only after months alone with him.”

Lydia stood.

“My mother owned Black Pine.”

Bell turned.

“Sit down.”

“No.”

Judge Merritt frowned.

“Miss Voss—”

“I was declared dead when I was twelve.”

The room changed.

She pulled the oilskin papers from inside the lining of her canvas bag.

Amos went white.

Bell moved before anyone else.

He lunged.

Rowan caught him by the wrist.

The room exploded into shouting.

Harker grabbed Bell.

Lydia slapped the deed onto the judge’s table.

“Read it.”

Merritt stared at her.

“Read my death certificate.”

He did.

Then the original deed.

Then the ledger.

His face changed with every page.