Instead, he lifted her hand and pressed his lips against her knuckles.
Then he mounted.
Catherine watched him ride south.
She did not call after him.
Spring arrived late that year.
Thomas moved into Catherine’s small house while recovering.
He was offered compensation by the territory.
He refused most of it.
Instead, he took a job managing the reopened telegraph office.
Dr. Sloan testified against Vale and received a reduced sentence for his cooperation.
Pike was convicted of conspiracy, attempted murder, and falsifying evidence.
Judge Gideon Vale died in federal custody before sentencing.
Some said his heart failed.
Catherine thought perhaps a man could only spend so many years running from the truth before the truth finally became faster.
She heard nothing from Jud.
April became May.
Snow disappeared from the lower ridges.
Wildflowers emerged.
Catherine told herself she was happy.
Thomas was alive.
That was what mattered.
It should have been enough.
But sometimes, late at night, she remembered storm-blue eyes and a scarred hand touching her cheek.
Then, on the first warm morning of June, someone knocked.
Catherine opened the door.
Jud stood on the porch.
Her heart forgot how to beat.
He looked different.
Clean-shaven.
Hair shorter.
Still scarred.
Still enormous.
But lighter somehow.
Catherine gripped the doorframe.
“What are you doing here?”
Jud removed his hat.
“I went to Salt Lake.”
She waited.
“I found Noah.”
Catherine smiled.
“How old?”
“Twelve.”
“Does he remember you?”
Jud’s eyes softened.
“He remembered the wooden horse.”
Her throat tightened.
“And Anna?”
Jud looked down.
Catherine knew before he answered.
“She died three winters ago.”
“Oh, Jud.”
“Fever.”
“I am so sorry.”
He nodded.
“Noah lives with Anna’s sister. He’s happy there.”
“You didn’t bring him?”
“He’ll come this summer.”
Catherine smiled.
Then realized what he had said.
“This summer?”
Jud looked at her.
“If I’m still welcome.”
Her heartbeat quickened.
“Where?”
“Here.”
Catherine stared.
Jud took one step forward.
“I spent six years thinking the worst thing that ever happened to me was losing my family.”
His voice roughened.
“I was wrong.”
Catherine said nothing.
“The worst thing was deciding afterward that I had no right to belong to the living.”
Her eyes burned.
“Then a half-frozen woman slapped me in my own cabin.”
Catherine laughed through tears.
“You deserved it.”
“Probably.”
“You were extremely rude.”
“I’ve improved.”
“Marginally.”
Jud smiled.
Then his expression became serious.
“I loved Anna.”
“I know.”
“I always will.”
“I know.”
“But loving the dead doesn’t require dying with them.”
Catherine’s breath caught.
Jud stepped closer.
“And loving the life I had doesn’t mean I can’t want another one.”
He reached for her hand.
This time he did not pull away.
“Catherine Prescott, I have a cabin in the mountains, a mule with a personality disorder, almost no money, poor conversation, and a son who apparently thinks I’m ancient.”
She laughed.
Jud’s thumb moved across her fingers.
“I also have every intention of spending whatever years I have left making sure you never cross another blizzard alone.”
Catherine looked at him.
“You rehearsed that.”
“For three hundred miles.”
“It needs work.”
His face fell slightly.
She rose onto her toes and kissed him.
Jud froze.
Then his arms closed around her.
Behind them, someone cleared his throat.
Thomas stood in the hallway.
“I hate to interrupt what appears to be a deeply private reunion occurring directly in my front doorway—”
