The Men in the Snow
The trees stayed still for one long second.
Then—
a horse stepped out of the darkness.
Snow clung to its black mane.
A rider sat tall in the saddle, coat dusted white, rifle resting across his lap.
Behind him—
two more men emerged between the pines.
Amelia stumbled backward.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“It’s him…”
The man beside her didn’t lower his rifle.
“Inside the cabin,” he muttered.
But Amelia grabbed his arm.
“No. If we run, he’ll burn it down with us in it.”
The rider at the front smiled when he saw her.
Cold.
Certain.
“There you are.”
His voice drifted through the snow like a knife.
“I was beginning to think you’d frozen to death.”
Amelia’s breathing turned ragged again.
The man in the Stetson stepped slightly in front of her.
Shielding her with his body.
“Turn around,” he said flatly.
The rider laughed under his breath.
Then his eyes dropped to Amelia.
“You really thought you could disappear?”
Amelia’s voice shook.
“I wasn’t hiding from you.”
The man on the horse smiled wider.
“No?”
His gaze slid toward the stranger standing beside her.
“Then why’d you steal my wife and run?”
Silence hit like a gunshot.
The man in the Stetson glanced back at Amelia.
Just once.
Confused.
Her eyes filled with tears instantly.
“It’s not true,” she whispered.
The rider’s expression darkened.
“She left with my money.”
“And my son.”
The stranger’s jaw tightened.
Snow blew harder between them.
Amelia looked at the ground for one broken second.
Then back up.
Voice trembling.
“He’s lying.”
The rider’s smile vanished.
And the man beside her asked the one question that changed everything.
“Amelia…”
His eyes stayed on her.
Steady.
Sharp.
“Where’s the boy?”
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