Chapter 2 - The Man Who Bought Her Freedom
Josephine woke because someone was chopping wood.
For several confused seconds, she expected Agnes Bell to throw open the bedroom door and complain that she had slept too late.
Then Josephine remembered.
The mountain.
The marriage.
Harlan Creek.
Silas Vale.
She sat upright.
Her door was still bolted.
No one had entered.
That fact alone seemed impossible.
Josephine dressed slowly.
Inside her trunk she found every garment Agnes had packed.
Dark brown.
Gray.
Black.
Nothing that might attract attention.
Nothing made to celebrate her.
The pale-blue dress from yesterday lay drying near the stove outside.
She chose a simple brown wool dress and stepped into the main room.
Harlan stood near the open doorway carrying an armful of wood.
Fresh snow covered his shoulders.
“Morning.”
Josephine blinked.
“Good morning.”
He kicked the door shut.
Breakfast waited on the table.
Biscuits.
Eggs.
Fried potatoes.
Josephine stopped.
For most of her life breakfast had been strategic.
She had learned to take smaller portions before anyone could comment.
At social gatherings she ate almost nothing.
Agnes had considered hunger a form of improvement.
Josephine reached for one biscuit.
Harlan placed three more on her plate.
She stared at them.
He noticed.
“What?”
“I can't eat all that.”
“Then don't.”
Josephine waited.
No lecture followed.
“You're not going to tell me I should eat less?”
Harlan frowned.
“Why would I?”
She almost laughed.
Because everyone does.
But she couldn't say it.
Instead she broke the biscuit in half.
Harlan sat opposite her.
He seemed to understand that too much attention made her nervous, so he concentrated on his coffee.
Eventually Josephine asked, “How do you know Silas Vale?”
Harlan's hand paused.
“Business.”
“What kind?”
“I supplied horses to one of his freight companies years ago.”
“And?”
“And I stopped.”
“Why?”
Harlan looked at her directly.
“Because men working for him disappeared.”
A cold feeling slid through Josephine.
“Disappeared?”
“Workers who complained about wages. Men who threatened lawsuits. Women who caused inconvenience.”
Josephine lowered her biscuit.
“And my father wanted me to marry him?”
“I don't know whether Gideon cared what Vale intended.”
That hurt worse than Josephine expected.
She had always known her father did not love her warmly.
But indifference was different from deliberately placing her in danger.
“Maybe you misunderstood.”
“Maybe.”
Harlan did not force her to accept his version.
That made her trust it more.
He stood.
“I need to check the horses.”
Josephine looked toward the window.
“The storm isn't over.”
“Stable roof took a beating.”
“Can I help?”
Harlan almost said no.
She saw it.
Then he reconsidered.
“Can you hammer?”
“My father owned a furniture shop.”
Harlan raised one eyebrow.
“You worked there?”
“For twelve years.”
“What did you do?”
“Whatever my brothers didn't want to do.”
That earned the smallest hint of a smile.
“Then bring your coat.”
Outside, the world was painfully beautiful.
Snow covered the pines.
The mountains disappeared into gray-white clouds.
Josephine followed Harlan toward a long stable twenty yards behind the cabin.
Inside stood four horses.
Two bays.
A chestnut mare.
And a giant black gelding.
Josephine stopped beside the black horse.
“He's beautiful.”
“His name's Solomon.”
Solomon lowered his head.
Josephine reached toward him.
The horse pressed his nose into her palm.
Harlan watched.
“He doesn't usually like strangers.”
“Maybe he has questionable judgment.”
Harlan made a sound.
Josephine glanced over.
“Did you laugh?”
“No.”
“You did.”
“Wind.”
“We're inside.”
For the first time since arriving, Josephine smiled.
Not politely.
Not because somebody expected it.
She actually smiled.
Harlan looked away quickly.
But she saw his expression soften.
They worked side by side for almost two hours.
Harlan repaired a roof brace while Josephine replaced loose boards along a stall.
He never took tools from her unless she asked.
He never corrected her merely to prove he knew more.
And when she suggested adding another cross support near the northwest wall, he examined it and said, “Good idea.”
Two ordinary words.
Good idea.
Josephine had not realized how hungry she was to hear them.
Near noon Harlan climbed onto a ladder.
Josephine held the base.
“Careful.”
He glanced down.
“You worried about me?”
“No. I'm worried about having to drag you back to the cabin.”
“Fair.”
He reached toward the damaged beam.
A crack sounded above them.
“Harlan!”
He turned just as a heavy plank broke loose.
Josephine yanked the ladder backward.
The board crashed where Harlan had been standing.
The ladder tipped.
He jumped.
He landed hard and dropped to one knee.
Josephine rushed toward him.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“You're holding your shoulder.”
“Observation isn't the same as injury.”
“You sound like a terrible patient.”
“And you sound like someone who became comfortable giving orders remarkably fast.”
Josephine folded her arms.
“Inside.”
Harlan stared.
She pointed toward the cabin.
“Now.”
Something close to amusement appeared in his eyes.
“Yes, ma'am.”
Josephine stopped.
No one had ever said those words to her without sarcasm.
Inside she heated water.
Harlan sat at the table while Josephine examined his shoulder.
His shirt remained on.
He made no attempt to turn the situation into something intimate.
“Move your arm.”
He lifted it.
“Higher.”
He did.
Josephine pressed carefully along the joint.
“Bruised.”
“Told you.”
“You said uninjured.”
“Bruises don't count.”
“To idiots, perhaps.”
Harlan looked at her.
Then he laughed.
A genuine laugh.
Deep.
Brief.
Unexpected.
Josephine froze.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're staring.”
“I didn't know you could laugh.”
“I didn't know you could insult someone before noon.”
“It's nearly one.”
“Then we're learning.”
For a moment, the cabin felt different.
Less like a place where she'd been delivered.
More like a place where two people happened to be snowed in together.
Then Solomon screamed outside.
Harlan was standing before Josephine could react.
He reached the window.
Three horses were coming through the trees.
Josephine's blood went cold.
“Vale?”
Harlan did not answer.
He moved to the door.
“Stay inside.”
Josephine grabbed his sleeve.
“You said I owe you no obedience.”
He looked down at her hand.
“Josephine—”
“So don't order me around.”
His jaw tightened.
“Fine.”
He lowered his voice.
“I'm asking you to remain here because I don't know who those men are.”
That was different.
She released him.
“Then I'm choosing to stay.”
Harlan nodded once.
Before opening the door, he looked back.
“If anything happens, bolt it.”
Josephine watched him step into the snow.
Three riders stopped near the stable.
The man in front removed his hat.
He was perhaps forty-five, dressed far too well for the mountain.
Silver touched his hair.
Even from the window, Josephine could see his smile.
Harlan did not smile back.
The stranger said something.
Josephine could not hear.
Then Harlan turned toward the cabin.
The well-dressed man followed his gaze.
His eyes landed directly on Josephine standing behind the glass.
He smiled wider.
And somehow she knew.
May you like
Silas Vale had arrived.
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