The wind struck the cabin, and the lamp flame jumped violently. Samuel crossed the room and knelt beside the trunk. Behind him, Eleanor whispered, “If he finds me here… he’ll kill us both.”

Samuel’s hand hovered over the lock. Then came a sound from outside. Hoofbeats.

Eleanor went completely pale. “No…” she breathed.

Samuel slowly stood as the hoofbeats grew louder, closer, and finally stopped directly outside the cabin.

The storm outside seemed to hold its breath, leaving the cabin in a heavy, suffocating silence. Samuel reached deliberately for the heavy Colt revolver resting on the mantelpiece, his fingers wrapping around the familiar grip with absolute calm. A sharp, demanding knock echoed through the room.

“Open up!” a harsh, gravelly voice barked from the dark. “I know you’ve got someone hiding in there, Samuel. Hand her over, and maybe I won’t burn this miserable cabin to the ground.”

Samuel didn’t hesitate. He stepped across the creaking floorboards, pulled the heavy oak door open wide, and stared down the armed stranger standing in the flickering lantern light.

It was Vance Garrett—a man with a scarred, angular face and cold, reptilian eyes. He sneered, trying to peek past Samuel into the cabin. “Don’t play innocent, rancher,” Vance spat. “That woman you just married… she was my property before she ran off from Missouri. Hand her over.”

“There is no property of yours here,” Samuel said, his voice a low, rumbling threat. “Only my legally wedded wife. Get off my land before I count to three.”

Vance dropped his hand toward his holster, but Samuel was faster. With the calm precision of a frontier man, Samuel struck Vance’s gun aside with a heavy blow of his revolver butt, then delivered a swift, crushing punch that sent the intruder sprawling backward into the dirt.

Before Vance could recover, Samuel stood over him, cold fury in his eyes. “She owes you nothing. The papers in that trunk prove your fake debts were cleared years ago. If you ever come near this house again, I won’t just use a gun.”

Gasping for air and bleeding from the mouth, Vance glared with pure venom, but seeing the lethal determination in Samuel’s eyes, he scrambled onto his horse and galloped off into the dark.

Samuel locked the door and turned back to Eleanor. She was looking at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, terrified that he might judge her. Instead, Samuel knelt before her, wiping a stray tear from her cheek with rough, gentle fingers. “You’re safe now, Eleanor,” he whispered. “No one is ever going to hurt you again.”