Jake guided his horse to the cabin and swung down carefully, keeping her close. The cabin wasn’t much—wood walls darkened by years of smoke, a pot on the stove, and a Bible on the table he hadn’t read as often as he promised himself he would.
A simple place.
A quiet place.
Jake carried her inside and laid her gently on his bed.
He soaked a cloth and pressed it to her forehead again. Her skin still burned. The heat was the kind that made you feel helpless, like you were trying to put out a fire with a teaspoon.
Her eyes fluttered open just enough for her to take in the room.
Then her face softened.
Relief.
Not sudden, not dramatic—slow relief, like a door finally closing after years of being left open.
Jake offered her water. He held the cup steady, not forcing it.
