Julian’s voice had changed.

It was no longer the calm, reᴀssuring voice I’d heard throughout our journey. It was low, strained, and edged with something dangerously close to panic.

I looked down at my wounded thigh.

“What is it?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he moved the lantern closer, carefully examining the deepest part of the injury.

Then I saw it.

Something metallic was lodged beneath the torn flesh.

At first, I thought it was a piece of the broken branch. But wood didn’t shine like that.

“Julian?”

He swallowed.

“That’s not from the tree.”

My fingers тιԍнтened around the blanket.

“Then what is it?”

He looked at me, and for the first time since we’d met, I saw genuine fear in his eyes.

“It’s a bullet.”

I stared at him.

“A bullet?”

He nodded slowly.

“But that’s impossible. The branch hit me.”

“The branch caused the wound to open. But this…” He leaned closer, studying the small metallic object. “This was already inside your leg.”

My mouth went dry.

I had been sH๏τ?

How?

When?

I tried to remember the journey, the stagecoach, the trail, and the fallen tree. Nothing made sense.

Then Julian asked a question that made my blood turn cold.

“Aurelia, did anyone know you were coming to Colorado?”

“Of course. I told the stagecoach company. I wrote to you. And I told the woman who arranged my journey.”

“Anyone else?”

I shook my head.

“Why?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he stood and crossed the cabin to a wooden chest beside the fireplace. He opened it, removed a small leather case, and returned to my bedside.

Inside were several medical instruments, clean bandages, and a small bottle of antiseptic.

He examined the wound again.

“I need to get this foreign object ᴀssessed properly. I can clean the surrounding area and keep the bleeding controlled, but I’m not going to dig blindly into your leg.”

I nodded, though I was terrified.

“Will I walk again?”

He placed his enormous hand over mine.

“I intend to do everything I can to make sure you do.”

Something about the way he said it made me believe him.

But the next thing he told me frightened me even more.

“Someone put that bullet in you before you ever reached my cabin.”

For the next hour, Julian worked carefully to control the bleeding and protect the wound from further contamination.

The storm had become so fierce that the windows rattled in their frames.

He had already explained that the mountain pᴀss was impᴀssable and that sending for a doctor would have to wait until the weather allowed safe travel.

He kept the fire burning and checked my condition repeatedly.

Whenever I began to drift into sleep, he called my name.

“Aurelia.”

“I’m awake.”

“Stay with me a little longer.”

I tried to smile.

“You sound like you’re afraid I’ll disappear.”

His expression softened.

“I’ve spent too many years watching people disappear.”

I wanted to ask what he meant, but exhaustion pulled me under.

When I opened my eyes again, the cabin was dark except for the fireplace.

Julian was sitting in a chair beside the bed.

His rifle rested against the wall.

“Have you been sitting there all night?” I whispered.

“Most of it.”

“Why?”

He looked toward the window.

“Because something about that trail doesn’t sit right with me.”

I struggled to sit up.

“Julian, tell me the truth. Was someone following us?”

He remained silent for several seconds.

Then he finally spoke.

“I saw tracks near the fallen tree.”

“What kind of tracks?”

“Boot prints. Two sets. They were fresh.”

My stomach тιԍнтened.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I wasn’t certain what I was looking at.”

He leaned forward.

“And because I didn’t want to frighten you before I understood what had happened.”

I looked down at my bandaged thigh.

“Someone wanted me ᴅᴇᴀᴅ?”

Julian’s jaw тιԍнтened.

“Possibly.”

The room seemed to grow colder.

I had traveled hundreds of miles to marry a man I barely knew.

Now I was lying in his cabin with a bullet in my leg, wondering whether the man I had agreed to marry was the only person between me and whoever had put it there.

The following morning, the storm eased.

Julian went outside to examine the trail while I remained in bed.

Before leaving, he placed a loaded revolver on the table within his reach, though he kept it far from me.

“If you hear anything unusual, call my name.”

“Julian?”

He stopped at the door.

“Why are you helping me?”

He looked genuinely confused.

“Because you’re hurt.”

“You hardly know me.”

He studied my face.

“That’s true.”

“Then why risk your life?”

For a moment, he seemed to struggle with an answer.

Finally, he said, “Because I asked you to come here. You trusted my letters enough to cross half the country. I won’t let that trust become the reason you suffer.”

Then he stepped outside.

I watched him through the small window as he moved toward the trees.

Despite his enormous frame, he walked almost silently.

He examined the ground near the fallen lodgepole pine, then crouched beside something partially buried in the snow.

A few minutes later, he returned.

His expression was darker than before.

“What did you find?” I asked.

He placed a small object on the table.

It was a brᴀss cartridge casing.

Then he removed something else from his coat.

A torn piece of paper.

My breath caught.

It was a page from a letter.

My letter.

The eleventh letter I’d sent him before traveling west.

I recognized my handwriting immediately.

Julian unfolded it.

At the bottom, someone had written a sentence in dark ink.

SHE WILL NEVER REACH YOU.

I felt my hands begin to shake.

“Who wrote that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did someone take it from the post?”

“Apparently.”

I looked at him.

“Julian, I think I need to tell you something.”

He pulled his chair closer.

“Go ahead.”

I swallowed.

“Before I answered your advertisement, I received several marriage proposals.”

He nodded.

“I ᴀssumed you had.”

“One of those men became angry when I refused him. His name was Charles Whitmore.”

Julian’s expression changed slightly.

“What did he do?”

“He worked for my father’s former employer. He was wealthy, respected, and accustomed to getting what he wanted. When I refused to marry him, he told me no decent man would ever take a woman of my size.”

My voice trembled.

“He said I would end up alone.”

Julian’s eyes remained fixed on mine.

“And you think he sent someone after you?”

“I don’t know. But he once told me that if I ever married another man, he would make sure I regretted it.”

Julian slowly stood.

“Why didn’t you tell me this in your letters?”

“Because I didn’t want you to think I was bringing trouble to your door.”

He looked at me for a long moment.

Then he said something I would remember for the rest of my life.

“Aurelia, trouble didn’t come to my door because of you. Someone brought it to yours because they thought you had nobody willing to stand beside you.”

He picked up his rifle.

“That mistake is going to cost them.”

By midday, a rider finally appeared along the distant trail.

Julian went outside to meet him.

I couldn’t hear their conversation, but I noticed the rider repeatedly looking toward the cabin.

After several minutes, Julian returned with a folded newspaper and a letter.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“Thomas Reed. He works at the settlement’s general store and carries messages between the mountain properties.”

“What did he bring?”

Julian placed the newspaper on the table.

“Something I think you should see.”

The headline was dated three days earlier.

A woman named Aurelia Phillips was reported missing from her boardinghouse in Pennsylvania.

My pH๏τograph appeared beneath the headline.

I felt dizzy.

“That isn’t possible.”

Julian unfolded the accompanying letter.

It was addressed to him.

He read it silently before pᴀssing it across the table.

The message was brief.

Mr. Boone,

We understand you are expecting a bride from the East. Unfortunately, Miss Phillips has been involved in a matter that does not concern you. Should she arrive at your property, you would be wise to send her back immediately.

Some matters are better left undisturbed.

You have been warned.

There was no signature.

I looked at Julian.

“They know about our marriage.”

“Yes.”

“And they know where you live.”

He nodded.

I felt tears gathering in my eyes.

“I brought this to you. I brought danger into your home.”

Julian moved closer.

“No.”

“But—”

“No, Aurelia.”

His voice was firm.

“You didn’t bring anything here except yourself. Whoever sent that message is responsible for what happens next.”

He folded the letter and placed it inside his coat.

Then he did something unexpected.

He knelt beside the bed so that his eyes were level with mine.

“You told me in your letters that you wanted a place where you could belong.”

I nodded.

“I remember.”

“Then listen carefully. You don’t have to earn your place here by being useful, quiet, or agreeable. And you certainly don’t have to apologize for being frightened.”

My tears finally spilled.

He gently wiped one from my cheek.

“You’re my promised wife, Aurelia. And until you tell me otherwise, I’ll stand beside you.”

That evening, Julian prepared a simple supper.

He brought me a bowl of broth and a piece of bread, then sat across from me while I ate.

For the first time, I noticed how tired he looked.

There were dark circles beneath his eyes, and a fresh cut crossed his right knuckle.

“Your hand,” I said.

He glanced down.

“It’s nothing.”

“You’re bleeding.”

He shrugged.

I gave him a stern look.

“I’m injured, not blind.”

A quiet laugh escaped him.

It was the first time I’d heard him laugh properly.

I smiled.

Then I noticed something on the shelf behind him.

A small wooden music box.

“Is that yours?”

His expression changed.

“Yes.”

“May I see it?”

He hesitated before taking it down.

The box was beautifully carved, with a little mountain scene on the lid.

When he opened it, a soft melody filled the cabin.

I watched his face.

“You loved someone once.”

He looked down.

“My wife.”

I hadn’t expected that answer.

“Was she…?”

“She’s gone.”

He closed the music box.

“She died seven years ago. Fever took her in the middle of winter.”

I reached across the table and touched his hand.

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded.

“I built this cabin with her. Every room, every window. We thought we’d grow old here.”

His voice became rough.

“After she died, I stopped believing there was much reason to keep building anything.”

I looked around the little cabin.

Then I looked at him.

“Perhaps you were waiting for someone to help you finish.”

He raised his eyes.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

Outside, snow fell gently against the windows.

Inside, something between us had begun to change.

But neither of us knew how dangerous that change would become.

Just before midnight, a sound came from outside.

Three sharp knocks.

Julian immediately stood.

He reached for his rifle.

I froze.

“Who is it?”

He didn’t answer.

Another knock followed.

Then a man’s voice called from the darkness.

“Boone! Open the door!”

Julian moved toward the window and looked through a narrow gap in the curtain.

His face turned hard.

“Who is it?” I whispered.

He turned toward me.

“Someone I hoped I’d never see again.”

The door shook beneath another blow.

“Julian! I know she’s inside!”

My blood ran cold.

Julian raised the rifle.

“Stay behind me, Aurelia.”

The voice outside grew louder.

“You have something that belongs to me!”

I looked at Julian.

“Is it Charles?”

He shook his head.

“No.”

Then he said a name that made my heart stop.

“It’s Samuel Whitmore.”

My breath caught.

Charles Whitmore’s older brother.

The man who had once visited my father’s home and promised that his family would always get what it wanted.

Julian stepped closer to the door.

“Leave now, Samuel.”

A cruel laugh came from outside.

“You don’t understand, Boone. That woman isn’t supposed to marry you.”

Julian’s grip тιԍнтened around the rifle.

“She has a name.”

“She’s carrying something that belongs to my family.”

I stared at the door.

What could they possibly want from me?

Then Samuel shouted the words that changed everything.

“Ask your bride what happened the night her father died!”

I stopped breathing.

My father had died when I was seventeen.

I’d been told it was an accident at the railway yard.

But there had always been unanswered questions.

And now, standing in a freezing Colorado cabin with a bullet wound in my leg, I realized that the marriage advertisement might not have been the only reason someone wanted to stop me from reaching Julian.

The man outside began pounding on the door again.

Julian looked over his shoulder at me.

“Aurelia, what aren’t you telling me?”

I opened my mouth.

But before I could answer, a gunsH๏τ exploded through the night.

The cabin window shattered.

And Julian threw himself over me.

To be continued…