They rode in near silence. Hooves thudded steady against hard earth. Somewhere distant, thunder rolled over the mountains.
Allora flinched.
The cowboy slowed the team without comment.
After a while, he spoke. “You can sleep soon. There’s a cabin ahead.”
His voice was low, even. No edge. No expectation tucked inside it.
“What’s your name?” she asked finally, staring ahead.
“Cole Jarrett.”
“I’m Allora.”
“Good name.”
That was it. No teasing. No mocking.
Just good.
The cabin stood tucked beneath tall pines, smoke curling from its chimney like a quiet signal. It wasn’t grand. But it looked… solid.
He stepped down and opened the door, standing aside.
“It’s warm inside,” he said. “You don’t have to go in.”
She hesitated.
Warmth meant walls. Walls meant being trapped.
But the door stood wide open.
No lock in sight.
She stepped in.
A fire crackled steady in the hearth. Two plates waited on the table. A kettle steamed gently.
Cole poured hot water into a tin cup. “There’s stew if you’re hungry. Blanket’s on the chair.”
She clutched his coat around her shoulders. “What now?” she whispered.
“Now you breathe.”
She studied him. Hard.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“Because this is a place with no locks.”
It sounded simple. Maybe foolish. But he said it like a fact carved in stone.
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