PART 2 — THE WARNING WAITING AT THE CABIN DOOR

Ruth Fairchild stood perfectly still.

Beside the cabin door lay a small wooden box, its lid partially open. A faded blue ribbon had been tied around it, and something white protruded from beneath the lid.

Callum noticed her expression immediately.

“What is it?”

Ruth didn’t answer.

She bent down, picked up the box, and carefully removed the folded paper inside.

There were only two sentences.

The first five women were wise enough to leave.

You should be wise enough to do the same.

Ruth read the message twice.

Then she looked at Callum.

“Is this your idea of a mountain welcome?”

Callum’s face darkened.

“No.”

“Someone doesn’t want me here.”

He took the paper from her hand.

For several seconds, he simply stared at it.

“Get inside, Ruth.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“That’s not an explanation.”

“It’s the best one I can give you until I know who’s been on my property.”

Ruth looked toward the forest.

The afternoon sunlight was fading behind the mountains. Beyond the cabin, towering pines stood motionless, their shadows stretching across the clearing.

“Someone came here while you were away?”

Callum nodded.

“Looks that way.”

“And left a message?”

“Yes.”

Ruth considered the paper again.

“Then I suppose we’d better find out why.”

Callum looked genuinely surprised.

“Most women would be asking for the next stagecoach.”

“Most women aren’t me.”

She picked up her luggage and walked toward the door.

Callum followed, still holding the note.

Inside, the cabin was warmer than Ruth had imagined. A fire crackled in the stone fireplace, and a large wooden table stood beneath a window overlooking the valley.

There were two chairs, two plates, and two clean cups.

Ruth noticed everything.

“You prepared for two people.”

“I was expecting a wife.”

“You were expecting someone to stay?”

Callum looked down.

“I was hoping.”

For the first time since arriving, Ruth saw something beneath his enormous frame that made her heart soften.

A man who had learned not to expect much from life.

She removed her bonnet.

“Well, Callum Bre, I haven’t decided whether I’m staying forever. But I certainly didn’t travel all the way from Iowa to leave before supper.”

He almost smiled.

Almost.

That evening, Callum prepared a meal of roasted potatoes, venison, and fresh bread.

Ruth watched him work.

His hands were enormous, yet he handled the cooking utensils with surprising care. When he placed a plate before her, he even remembered that she had mentioned enjoying extra ʙuттer in one of her letters.

“You remembered.”

“I read your letters.”

“All of them?”

“Every one.”

Ruth smiled.

“Then you know I don’t like being treated as though I’m made of glᴀss.”

“I know.”

“And you know I can chop wood.”

“I know.”

“And I don’t need someone apologizing for my size.”

Callum finally looked directly at her.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Ruth studied him.

“Then tell me something. Why did the other women leave?”

He lowered his fork.

“Helen said she couldn’t live so far from town. Margaret feared the winter. Dorothy was uncomfortable around me. Catherine never unpacked. Sarah couldn’t even bring herself to enter the cabin.”

“And what did you think?”

“That I was too much man for any woman to feel comfortable beside.”

Ruth shook her head.

“That’s not what I see.”

Callum looked at her.

“What do you see?”

“A man who built a beautiful home but forgot that a home needs more than strong walls.”

He said nothing.

Ruth continued.

“You need someone who isn’t afraid to sit beside you in silence. Someone who can appreciate the mountains without needing to talk about them every minute.”

Callum looked toward the fireplace.

“Perhaps.”

But Ruth noticed something.

His eyes had drifted toward the small wooden box sitting on the table.

He was afraid.

Not of her.

Of something that had happened before she arrived.

The following morning, Ruth woke before sunrise.

She dressed, tied her hair back, and stepped outside.

The mountain air was crisp, and a thin layer of frost covered the wooden porch.

She found Callum already splitting logs.

He stopped when he saw her.

“You’re up early.”

“I’m hungry.”

He glanced toward the cabin.

“Breakfast is almost ready.”

“Good. But first, show me where you keep the tools.”

Callum frowned.

“Why?”

“Because that woodpile won’t fill itself.”

He tried to object, but Ruth had already walked toward the shed.

By noon, she had reorganized the pantry, cleaned the kitchen, and helped Callum repair a loose section of fencing.

She wasn’t trying to prove anything.

She simply believed that if two people shared a home, both should contribute to it.

And for the first time in sixteen years, Callum found himself working beside someone who didn’t seem uncomfortable with his presence.

Then came the sound of a horse.

A rider appeared at the edge of the clearing.

Callum immediately straightened.

The newcomer was a thin man in a black coat, with a narrow face and a neatly trimmed mustache.

“Morning, Bre!”

Callum didn’t return the greeting.

“What do you want, Mercer?”

The man glanced at Ruth.

“So this is the sixth one?”

Ruth wiped her hands on her apron.

“I’m Ruth Fairchild.”

“Silas Mercer. Land agent.”

He tipped his hat, but his eyes remained fixed on Callum.

“I see you’ve found yourself another bride.”

Callum stepped forward.

“State your business.”

Silas laughed.

“Still as friendly as ever.”

He removed a folded document from his coat.

“I’ve come to make one final offer for your property.”

“No.”

“You haven’t even looked at the amount.”

“I told you last month. The answer is no.”

Silas’s smile faded.

“You’re sitting on valuable timberland, Bre. The northern ridge alone could make you a wealthy man.”

“I already own it.”

“For now.”

Ruth watched them carefully.

Silas turned toward her.

“Miss Fairchild, I’d advise you to reconsider your decision. This mountain isn’t a suitable place for a woman.”

Ruth smiled politely.

“Funny. I was just thinking the same thing about certain men.”

Silas’s expression тιԍнтened.

He mounted his horse.

“Enjoy your new wife, Bre. I doubt she’ll last longer than the others.”

Callum watched him disappear.

Ruth waited until the sound of hoofbeats faded.

“Who is that man?”

“A land speculator.”

“And what does he want?”

“My mountain.”

Ruth glanced toward the surrounding forest.

“Then why did someone leave a warning at our door?”

Callum turned sharply.

“You think Mercer left it?”

“I think he has something to do with it.”

Callum shook his head.

“There’s more to this than land.”

He walked toward the cabin.

Ruth followed.

Inside, he opened an old wooden chest and removed five envelopes.

Each contained a letter.

Each was addressed to one of the women who had answered his advertisement.

Ruth examined them.

“What are these?”

“The letters I received after they left.”

She opened the first.

Dear Mr. Bre, I am sorry, but I cannot remain. Someone told me things about your past that I cannot ignore.

The second contained almost identical words.

So did the third.

Ruth looked up.

“Someone contacted all five women?”

Callum nodded.

“I didn’t know until after the last one left.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to frighten you.”

Ruth placed the letters on the table.

“Callum, someone has deliberately tried to keep every woman away from you.”

He stared at the envelopes.

For sixteen years, he had believed his appearance was the reason he couldn’t find companionship.

Now he was beginning to understand that someone had been working very hard to make sure he remained alone.

Ruth picked up the final envelope.

There was something different about it.

The letter had been opened and resealed.

She turned it over.

A faint impression remained beneath the paper.

It looked like a name.

She held it toward the window.

Silas Mercer.

Callum’s expression became stone.

But before either could speak, a distant bell rang from the direction of the northern ridge.

Once.

Twice.

Then three times.

Callum rushed to the window.

“What is it?” Ruth asked.

He grabbed his coat.

“Someone is at the old mining cabin.”

“Who?”

He looked at her.

“My brother.”

Ruth frowned.

“You have a brother?”

Callum nodded slowly.

“I buried him twelve years ago.”

And then he reached for his rifle.