Chapter 16 - The Night the Mountain Came Down
They reached the cabin at dusk.
The place looked smaller after everything that had happened.
Hattie dismounted.
Home.
Gideon opened the door.
Broken furniture still littered the floor from Red’s attack.
Hattie stared.
“My table.”
“I’ll build another.”
“You had better.”
They laughed.
For three days they repaired the cabin.
The routine felt healing.
Gideon replaced boards.
Hattie cleaned.
Together they emptied Mary’s room.
Not completely.
They kept her photograph.
Her journal.
The blue dress went into a cedar chest.
Some things belonged to memory.
Others could be released.
On the fourth evening, Hattie made stew.
Gideon barely ate.
She noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She pointed her spoon at him.
“We have established rules about that answer.”
He sighed.
“There’s something I need to ask.”
Hattie waited.
Gideon looked nervous.
Gideon Hayes.
The terrifying mountain man.
Nervous.
Hattie became concerned.
“Are you sick?”
“No.”
“Then say it.”
He stood.
Walked toward the hearth.
Turned back.
“We married because you had nowhere else to go.”
Hattie frowned.
“Yes.”
“And because I was afraid to be alone.”
“Also yes.”
“Neither is true anymore.”
Hattie slowly put down her spoon.
“You have money now.”
“A little.”
“You could go East.”
“I could.”
“Or Denver.”
“Yes.”
“Anywhere.”
Hattie’s heart began pounding.
Where was this going?
Gideon continued.
“I don’t want you staying because of a contract signed in a saloon.”
She stared.
“I want you to choose.”
The room became quiet.
“You’re releasing me?”
“If you want.”
Hattie felt anger rise.
Then realized it was fear.
“Do you want me to leave?”
Gideon’s face changed.
“No.”
“Then stop talking like a lawyer.”
He looked miserable.
“I’m trying to do this right.”
“Do what?”
He crossed the room.
Stopped in front of her.
“I chose you once for the wrong reason.”
Hattie’s throat tightened.
“I chose you because I thought your body meant you could survive.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know your mind.”
He took her hand.
“Your humor.”
Another breath.
“Your courage.”
He looked directly into her eyes.
“I didn’t know you would become the first person in years who made me want morning to come.”
Hattie’s eyes filled.
Gideon continued.
“I chose you to live.”
His thumb brushed her fingers.
“But now I’m asking you to stay because I love you.”
Hattie stopped breathing.
There it was.
Finally.
The word.
Love.
Gideon looked terrified.
More terrified than when Red held a rifle.
Hattie let him suffer for three seconds.
Then five.
His expression became increasingly worried.
She smiled.
“That took you long enough.”
He blinked.
“Hattie.”
“I love you too.”
His eyes closed.
Relief transformed him.
Then he kissed her.
Hattie wrapped her arms around his neck.
He lifted her slightly.
She laughed against his mouth.
When he set her down, she whispered, “And for the record, you did not choose me for the wrong reason.”
He frowned.
“You saw strength when nobody else did.”
“That doesn’t excuse what I called you.”
“No. You were an idiot.”
“Agreed.”
“But you learned.”
“Yes.”
Outside, a deep sound rolled through the valley.
They separated.
Gideon looked toward the window.
Another rumble.
“The mountain.”
“What?”
He opened the door.
A thunderous crack echoed.
Snow shifted high above.
Gideon’s face changed.
“Avalanche.”
They moved instantly.
The blast at the mine had destabilized snow on the northern face.
The avalanche did not strike the cabin directly.
But it buried part of the mule shelter and blocked the stream.
For hours Hattie and Gideon worked.
They dug the animals free.
Reinforced the roof.
Cleared snow.
By midnight both were exhausted.
Then they heard shouting.
People were trapped below.
A supply party from town had entered the valley before the slide.
Gideon grabbed ropes.
Hattie followed.
They found three men and a woman near the lower trail.
One man had a broken leg.
Gideon tied a rope around himself.
The slope was unstable.
Hattie saw his old injury.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“I have to.”
“We both do.”
Together they crossed.
Hattie anchored the rope.
Gideon reached the injured man.
Snow shifted.
Hattie planted her boots.
Pulled.
Every muscle burned.
Gideon helped the man across.
Then another.
Then the woman.
By dawn, everyone was safe inside the cabin.
Seven people crowded around the fire.
Hattie cooked whatever food she could find.
Gideon collapsed into a chair.
She looked around.
At strangers wrapped in blankets.
At wet boots near the hearth.
At the cabin alive with voices.
Mary’s letter returned to her.
Make him live.
Hattie smiled.
Gideon noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He raised an eyebrow.
She laughed.
“You’re learning.”
Outside, the mountain settled.
Inside, life continued.
And for the first time, Gideon Hayes understood something Mary had tried to tell him years earlier.
Survival was not merely refusing to die.
May you like
It was allowing yourself to belong to the living.
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