Chapter Seven
Edith sat stiffly on the seat of the cart, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as the wheels creaked beneath them.
Daniel sat beside her, silent, his gaze fixed on the path ahead.
The road was rough, jostling the cart with every bump and dip, and Edith’s body swayed awkwardly, trying to adjust to the uneven ride.
The early morning chill clung to the air, but Daniel had given her a woolen blanket to wrap around herself.
The cart rolled past the last of the small farms and homes on the outskirts of town, leaving behind the familiar sight of people working in their fields, smoke rising from chimneys, and the distant hum of life.
The further they traveled, the more isolated the world around them became.
The road turned to dirt, and the trees grew denser, towering over them like silent sentinels.
The hum of the town faded into the distance, replaced by the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional call of a bird.
With each passing mile, Edith’s unease deepened.
Her hands gripped the edge of the seat, her fingers aching from the pressure.
She cast a glance at Daniel, but his face remained unreadable, his scarred profile illuminated by the pale morning light.
What was he thinking? He had hardly said a word since they’d left.
What will he want from me? The question gnawed at her, winding tighter and tighter in her chest. She had asked it a hundred times since the moment he had stepped forward in that saloon, offering money to take her away. No one did something for nothing.
As the cart bumped along the uneven trail, the wilderness stretched out before them, vast and unyielding.
There was no one out here. No houses. No people.
No witnesses. Edith’s heart quickened, the familiar coil of fear tightening in her chest. She didn’t know this man.
He had saved her from something terrible, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of his own cruelty.
Her thoughts spiraled as the trees closed in around them, the world narrowing to just the two of them on this path to nowhere.
She stole another glance at Daniel, searching for any sign of his intentions, but his face remained a mask of calm determination. The muscles in his jaw twitched occasionally, as if he were grinding his teeth, but beyond that, there was nothing. Just silence.
Edith swallowed hard, her throat dry as the unease settled deeper in her stomach. “How far is your cabin?” she finally asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
“Half a day’s ride,” Daniel replied, glancing at her for the briefest moment before returning his attention to the trail. “We’ll get there before dark.”
Edith watched him for a moment, waiting to see if he’d tell her anything more. He sat straight, his hands firm on the reins, his mouth pressed into a thin line. The quiet was starting to gnaw at her.
“You’ve lived out here long?” Edith asked, her voice tentative, breaking the silence.
Daniel turned slightly as if surprised by her question but nodded. “About five years now. Built the cabin myself.”
Edith shifted on the seat, adjusting her shawl. “It must be... quiet out there. Away from everyone.”
“It is,” Daniel replied, his voice steady. “That’s why I like it.”
“Do you ever get lonely?” she asked quietly.
Daniel hesitated, his grip tightening on the reins as he thought. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But I got used to it. Peaceful, in a way.”
“Do you live by yourself?” she asked after a pause, glancing at him.
Daniel glanced at her from the corner of his eye before returning his focus to the road. “Yeah. Just me. A couple of traps, supplies when I need ‘em. Otherwise, I manage.”
A part of her wondered how he could stand it—living alone, miles away from anyone. But there was something in his voice that made her think he preferred it that way.
“I guess... I guess I don’t mind the quiet either,” Edith said, her voice softer. “I’ve spent a lot of time alone.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow slightly but didn’t press her for more. He seemed to understand. Changing subjects, he asked, “You been out this far before?”
“No,” Edith replied, shaking her head. “Never this far. My father wouldn’t have taken me.”
Daniel nodded but didn’t respond. He flicked the reins gently along, urging the horse forward. Edith watched him carefully, studying the way he seemed so at ease in the wilderness. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever feel that way.
“Do you go into town often?” Edith asked, feeling like her questions kept flooding through her faster than she could ask them.
“Only when I need supplies or to trade,” Daniel said. “Other than that, I stay out at the cabin.”
Edith pressed her lips together. “Do you have... friends out here? People you see often?”
Daniel gave her a gentle smile for the first time since they’d started the journey. “I have a few. Mary and Sam... folks in town. But mostly, I keep to myself.”
Edith nodded, casting her gaze forward as the trees thickened around them.
She could feel the wilderness closing in, the world shrinking to just the two of them on this long, winding path.
She wasn’t sure if it was the isolation or the strangeness of the situation, but a part of her felt more vulnerable than she had before.
“You must be used to being out here alone,” Edith said, breaking the silence once more.
“I am,” Daniel replied, his voice low. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t notice when someone needs help.”
Edith shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She hadn’t meant to steer the conversation toward herself, but now that they were there, she felt exposed. “I’m not helpless,” she said quickly, though her voice faltered slightly. “I can manage.”
“I know,” Daniel said, his tone calm. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”
Looking down at her hands, Edith couldn’t think of any way to respond.
They fell into silence again for a while, the cart rumbling steadily beneath them as they ventured deeper into the wilderness.
Edith could feel her unease growing as the distance between them and the town stretched further.
She wasn’t sure what lay ahead, and the uncertainty gnawed at her.
“You... said you have traps?” Edith asked, trying to distract herself from the growing sense of isolation.
Daniel nodded. “Yeah. Trapping furs, mostly. It’s how I get by.”
“Must be hard,” Edith said, her voice quieter.
Daniel shrugged. “It’s the life I chose.”
“Why?”
Daniel hesitated for a moment, his jaw tightening as he considered her question. “I needed a fresh start,” he said finally, his voice low. “And this place gave me that.”
Edith didn’t press him for more. She could hear the heaviness in his words, the things he wasn’t saying. She wondered what his story was, whether he had any family, since he lived out in the forest alone, or if the scars on his face had anything to do with his fresh start.
“I guess we both needed a fresh start,” Edith said softly, surprising herself with the admission.
Daniel glanced at her, his expression unreadable, but he nodded. “Maybe.”
For a while, they rode in silence again, the wilderness swallowing them up. Edith’s thoughts swirled, her mind returning to the present moment as the cart bumped along the uneven road.
After what seemed like forever, they arrived at a large wooden cabin nestled in a clearing surrounded by towering trees.
The forest seemed to swallow up everything around them, casting long shadows over the ground as the sun began to sink lower in the sky.
The air was crisp, carrying the fresh scent of pine and damp earth.
As Edith stepped off the cart, her legs wobbly from the long ride, she paused to take in her surroundings.
The cabin was larger than she had imagined, built of thick, rough-hewn logs, its roof sloping down steeply to ward off the winter snow.
A stack of firewood was neatly piled along one side of the cabin.
Despite its rustic simplicity, it seemed solid and comforting.
What truly took her breath away, though, was the wild beauty of the place.
The forest stretched out in all directions, untouched and vast, with patches of sunlight filtering through the trees and dancing on the ground.
A small creek ran alongside the clearing, its waters glinting like silver in the fading light.
Everything about the place felt raw and untamed, far removed from the tight confines of the town she had known her whole life.
For a moment, Edith stood still, her breath catching in her throat. It was beautiful, but it was also overwhelming. The isolation, the silence—it was unlike anything she had ever experienced.
Daniel cleared his throat, breaking the spell.
“Come on,” he said, his voice rough but not unkind. He gestured toward the door of the cabin. “I’ll show you inside.”
Edith blinked, pulling herself from her thoughts, and nodded. She followed Daniel as he walked to the door, his steps sure and steady. He pushed the door open with a creak, and they stepped inside.
The inside of the cabin was simple but warm.
A large hearth dominated one wall. A wooden table and two chairs sat near the fire, and shelves lined the walls, filled with supplies—jars of dried herbs, stacks of firewood, tools neatly arranged in rows.
A small cot was tucked into the far corner, covered in thick blankets.
It wasn’t much, but it felt solid and safe, a stark contrast to the wildness just outside the door.
The whole space felt lighter, more well-kept, more comfortable than her father’s cabin did.
“This is it,” Daniel said, his voice quieter now. He glanced around the room as if seeing it through her eyes. “It’s not much, but it’s kept me warm through the winters.”
Edith hesitated in the doorway, her fingers gripping the edge of the doorframe as she looked around. It was strange, standing in a place that wasn’t her father’s house, a place unknown and new. She felt out of place, like an intruder in Daniel’s world, even though he had invited her here.
“You can take the cot for now,” Daniel said, motioning toward the bed in the corner. “I’ve got a bedroll. I’ll sleep by the fire.”
Edith glanced at the cot, then back at Daniel. “You don’t have to do that,” she said softly, feeling a flicker of guilt. “I can sleep by the fire.”
Daniel shook his head. “No, you need the rest more than I do,” he said firmly. “Besides, I’m used to sleeping rough when I need to.”
Edith bit her lip, unsure of how to respond. She wasn’t used to someone putting her needs ahead of their own. It felt strange, unsettling even, but she didn’t have the energy to argue.
“All right,” she said quietly, stepping further into the cabin. Her gaze traveled around the room again, taking in the details—the rough wooden floorboards, the simple furniture, the smell of smoke and pine that seemed to permeate everything. It was all so foreign to her.
Daniel stood by the hearth, his back turned to her as he started a fire.
He moved with an ease she envied, as though this wild, rugged life suited him perfectly.
Edith, on the other hand, felt awkward, not knowing what she was supposed to—or was allowed to—do.
So, she looked about the room, waiting for Daniel to give her direction.
The cabin was as wild inside as it was outside, with its uneven wooden floors and rough-hewn beams. Dust lingered on the shelves, and cobwebs had settled into the corners, making it clear that while the place provided shelter, it hadn’t seen much care in a long time.
An assortment of traps, knives, and ropes had been left haphazardly on a table, and clothes draped over a chair.
It was a far cry from the shambled house her father kept, but it was still in desperate need of some attention.
Daniel moved to put the cart supplies away, and when he stepped toward her, Edith flinched involuntarily.
She stiffened, her breath catching in her throat.
Daniel stopped in his tracks, his eyes softening as they met hers.
He held up his hands in a gesture of peace, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.
“Look,” he said, his voice low and gentle, “I don’t want anything untoward from you. You’ve been through enough. That’s not what this is about.”
Edith’s eyes darted away, a mixture of embarrassment and lingering fear twisting inside her. She knew she shouldn’t expect the worst, but old habits died hard. Her father had taught her to brace for the worst in men, to expect cruelty when it was least expected.
“I just want to make sure you understand this will be your home, too,” Daniel continued, his tone earnest. “In return, if you feel up to it, you can help out—cleaning, cooking. That’s all.”
Edith slowly lifted her gaze to meet his, searching his face for any sign of dishonesty. But all she saw was sincerity. He had a frank, open expression on his face, and she felt as though he was trying to ease her fear without pressing too hard.
“My job...” Daniel paused, as if considering his words. “My work requires me to be away sometimes. A few days at a time, depending on what I need to do. I’ve got traps set further out, and I trade furs in town. You’ll have the place to yourself when I’m gone.”
Edith blinked. The thought of being alone, truly alone, in her own space sent a strange feeling of relief through her.
She looked around the cabin again, this time with different eyes.
It wasn’t much, but it was something. There was freedom in the idea of having her own space, her own place to be without anyone telling her what to do, without anyone breathing down her neck.
She nodded slowly, her hands still gripping the shawl tightly around her shoulders. “I... I can do that,” she said quietly, though her voice sounded more confident than she felt. “I can cook and clean.”
Daniel nodded, a hint of relief crossing his face. “Good. That’s all I ask.”
Looking around again, she studied the space this time, wondering how to feel more at home. She had never had a place of her own before.
“You can make it your own,” Daniel added, as if reading her thoughts. “Fix it up how you like. It’s yours, as long as you need it.”
Edith exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing just a little. The fear wasn’t completely gone—she wasn’t naive enough to think it could disappear overnight—but something inside her shifted.
“I think I can handle that,” Edith said softly, giving Daniel a small nod.
Daniel nodded back. “Good,” he said, then stepped toward the door. “I’ll go bring in the rest of the supplies.”
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving her alone with those doubts, with the sound of her own unsteady breathing. She stared at the floor, the shadows lengthening, and wondered if the freedom she thought she’d just found was another illusion waiting to be shattered.