She thinks she does not need anyone.
In this way she is exactly like you.
Corvin stared at the sentence.
He read it again.
Then again.
The paper trembled violently.
He looked at Talani.
She was crying now.
Silent tears.
Corvin could barely speak.
“No.”
Talani swallowed.
Corvin returned to the letter.
Her father raised her with love, and he was her father in every way that matters.
But you, Elias—
you gave her life.
The world shifted.
Corvin dropped the letter.
Talani caught it before it touched the dirt.
He stood too quickly and nearly fell.
“No.”
“My mother knew she was pregnant before Fort Mercy.”
Corvin stared at her.
“She never told me.”
“She intended to.”
His voice broke.
“You’re my daughter?”
Talani looked directly at him.
“Yes.”
Corvin turned away.
He pressed both hands against his face.
Seventeen years of loneliness collapsed inside him at once.
The birthday he never saw.
The first word he never heard.
The fever he never sat beside.
The scraped knees.
The laughter.
The childhood.
Gone.
He had lost all of it.
Talani watched him.
Then she said, “That is why the warriors came.”
Corvin lowered his hands.
“What?”
“My uncle could have brought twenty men.”
He stared at her.
“Why three hundred?”
“Because my mother was the sister of a chief.”
Corvin nodded slowly.
“But that wasn’t the only reason.”
Talani stepped closer.
“When word spread that Elias Vale had been found, men came from different bands.”
“Why?”
“Some had fathers who escaped Fort Mercy.”
Corvin stared.
“Some had mothers.”
Her voice trembled.
“Some would not exist if those prisoners had died.”
Corvin looked toward the ridges where the warriors had stood.
Three hundred men.
He finally understood.
They had not surrounded his ranch to threaten him.
They had come because of him.
Talani said quietly, “You thought they came for war.”
“Yes.”
“They came to see the man who opened the gate.”
Corvin could not speak.
Talani looked toward the well.
“And to protect him.”
Tears slid down Corvin’s face.
He did not wipe them away.
Two weeks later, Corvin began repairing the empty room at the back of the cabin.
He told himself it needed fixing anyway.
The roof leaked.
The shutters were crooked.
The floorboards had warped.
Talani watched him work for three days before finally asking, “What is this room for?”
Corvin continued hammering.
“Storage.”
She looked at the bed frame he had built.
“Storage sleeps on mattresses?”
Corvin stopped.
Talani crossed her arms.
He sighed.
“In case someone stays.”
“Who?”
“Travelers.”
“You live two days from the nearest road.”
“Lost travelers.”
“With dresses?”
She pointed toward the wooden wardrobe he had built.
Corvin stared at it.
