Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

They did start early the next day and they left the wagon and team there at the judge's house. Northrop had saddled up a bay and a seal brown, leading them out of the barn.

Faith looked apprehensively at them as he tied her bag to the saddle of the seal.

"Don't much use the wagon in the uplands. Always ride horseback usually. Fastest trail home is too narrow and rough for a wagon." He told her. "Seal's yours 'n you can name her whatever you want."

He stood there expectantly and she came over but looked at a loss. Clumsily she put her foot to the stirrup and pulled herself up and tried to situate herself sidesaddle with obvious ignorance.

He suddenly realized, "You ever ride?"

She shook her head and he looked as if in shock, maybe a bit balked. "You'll have to learn to ride out here Ma'am. Ain't much to it, should come pretty natural."

Faith felt ashamed. She had been on a horse perhaps twice in her life as there was no real call for riding in the city and it had never been of a particular interest to her. Now it was just another tali against her that she'd have to learn along with who knew what else.

Watching Northrop she tried to mimic his way with his saddle horse Rush as they went up a narrow pass into the heights of the mountains. Many times Northrop had to take the bridle to lead the mare through creeks that ran through their path or if the horse would have a mind to stop and eat.

They continued to climb, the valley falling behind them. The air was cooler and the vegetation green compared to the tawny prairie below. As they went, Northrop pointed out the land. The ranges of other cattlemen and where theirs started. Where others kept their ranges to the benches and the streams that came out of the mountains, Cassidy's lay in the lofty meadows above. He explained the feed was good here, the water source always reliable.

"I've got two thousand head right now. Sold a good part of my herd last year and made some money, so's I could bring you here." He ended with reserve.

"And you tend them by yourself?" She asked.

"Yes ma'am. Used to have a hand but he's gone now. Now it's just me...well us isn't it?" He said thoughtfully.

She felt a warmth in her chest. 'Us'.

"North."

His face turned back to her, an eyebrow up, "Pardon?"

Faith's eyes flickered from him to the ring that now hung down her chest, "May I call you North?"

Pausing only a thoughtful moment he nodded, "Haven't been called that for a spell. Only family mostly. Reckon you are family."

It had been a while since she had been called family.

A few hours later, mid afternoon they came upon a richly green meadow with a little cabin near the pine tree line and a brook nearby. The makings of a barn were all but up and they pulled into the yard. A large dog ran up to them excitedly but started to bark at Faith when it saw her. It looked like a wolf to her with its long snout and pointed ears. The brown fur was thick and bushy about its neck and tail and it had a black dorsal marking that ran down its back. North nodded saying it was half wolf and his name was Lobo.

Apprehensively she reached out to the dog and it sniffed at her then backed up, a low growl behind the white teeth he bore.

North assured her, given time the dog would become accustomed to her.

She took her valse while North took her horse into the barn and stabled it showing her how to store her tack and how to rub the horse down to cool it.

The smell of the barn was a mix of grains, leathers, and the musky scent from the horses. Faith actually found it pleasant.

Following North, they went to the little cabin. It had a small porch with an old chair that sat by the door.

The cabin had two rooms. A larger one with the modest kitchen and fireplace in it. A nicely carved table sat in the middle with two chairs. One seemed used and worn the other brand new as if just made. The other room was the bedroom with a finely carved bed and a trunk at its foot and wash stand in the corner.

There were few personalizations or decorations. Besides a mantle clock and plain sack cloth for curtains, there was just what was needed and it was neat and tidy. It seemed he had lived here by himself a while.

Faith asked North about where she should keep her things and he offered the trunk. He could move his own things under the bed if she needed more space but she reminded him she only had what fit in her valse.

The short tour over, he watched her for a moment as she opened her valse on the bed, "Now I gotta go check the stock. They've been on their own for days. Might take me a time to gather 'em. I bet they've drifted. Might be back late for dinner. I'll bring some beef if'n I get a chance."

And he started outside again.

He brought a rifle out from under the wagon seat, sliding it in a sleeve on the saddle then pulled himself up onto the bay gelding.

Faith looked about herself as she had followed him out into the yard but took a step towards him subconsciously, "What should I do?"

He pulled himself up into the leather and looked at her, his face straight, "Jest settle in I reckon. There's things to be done around. I'll be back direct."

Then he swung the horse around, trotting off into the trees.

He had just left her without instructions besides dinner. What did women do out here in the wilderness? She went over to the cupboards and looked through them. There was flour, cornmeal, salt, beans, baking soda, coffee, sugar, yeast and some other cooking necessities. They had brought home a side of bacon but he mentioned something about it being for breakfast. Bread, she knew how to bake bread so she started to get it mixing. There was a fine stove set in the corner and she got the fire going. She had brought along an apron which looped over her arms and covered her upper body as well as her skirts.

As soon as the dough was left to rest she stepped outside. The air was fresh and almost sweet, like cool water to her lungs. There were higher peaks still around this valley and some hatted with white snow. The meadow around her was full of wildflowers. The yard was dirt with a well not far off. Faith wondered why there would be a well if there was a brook nearby. So many questions piling up and she felt ignorant and embarrassed to ask North. She would give it a few days, hoping to figure most of it out on her own. Her tutors had always said she was bright, ingenuitive and learned quickly. It was disheartening realizing that everything she had studied and learned most of her life was useless now.

The dog watched her warily, growling when she passed. Back behind the house was a weed infested garden or what had been a garden at some point. She knew some about gardening and decided that would be a project of hers.

Soon she went back inside and decided to give the place a deep clean. She swept the floors and cleaned the windows. She found the floor scrubbing brush and a bucket and got to her knees. The light outside faded and she started a fire in the fireplace. Keeping her ears tuned to the outside she kept listening for the sound of hoofsteps in the yard outside. It was strange not having the constant hammer of people and carriages passing by on a street.

The bread came out of the oven late and not as well formed as she had hoped. Perhaps it had something to do with the thin, dry air and she would have to adjust. The coffee, she had never been keen on it herself and had never seemed to get the knack of it. It was always bland and bitter. Or too strong or too thin.

All of the things she knew that she should know and didn't were overwhelming and more than once she felt like crying. What frightened her even more were the things she was completely oblivious to. Admitting that she hadn't much experience in riding a horse seemed to have really shocked Cassidy. Maybe more of it was the sudden change in her life. Her father's death, he had been all she had. The one she loved the most and who loved her. Her step mother had always been civil to her, even kind. But after her father's death she became even more distant and only affable as one would a new acquaintance.

To distract herself, Faith had gone to unpack her valse which contained another pair of stockings, a brush and some other personal items and five books. There was no where to put them but in the trunk and when she opened it. Inside was a well used but well kept woodworking toolkit, a razor, a stack of what looked like legal papers and a photo of a group of young men and boys. There was an old bible and a some of North's extra clothes. A pair of newer trousers and a faded navy color shirt. There was a large tear at the breast pocket of the shirt. Faith took the shirt up and decided to mend it. She looked about the house for a sewing kit. In drawers of the kitchen pantry and then she saw a little box on top of the cupboard which she was too short to reach and so she dragged a chair over. Standing on it she reached for the box but her hand felt the cold, double rounded metal of a gun barrel. She lifted it up to see a shot gun stowed there then set it back down. In the box there was indeed a needle and spool of white thread. There were no scissors but she just cut it with a knife from the kitchen and settled down in front of the fire to mend the shirt.

Not long after she heard the sound of hooves and she hurried to finish the repairwork on the shirt, biting off the string and tying it. It was a decent job done. She pushed the needle into the material and sat the shirt on the table as she got up to go to the door.

A chorus of crickets and cicada were singing in the night air and Faith waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark. She thought she could see North moving around in the unfinished barn then he came out and started towards the house. But the tall man stopped about half way, his arms limp at his sides and a reflective look in his tired eyes as he took in the house then her.

Faith felt like she should say something, "You're home."

The tight frown he had been wearing softened and bowed into a modest smile.

"Long day." He commented unspecifically but there was an undertone of anxiety she thought. "I'll wash up in the creek." He turned off into the dark.

Nodding she went back inside to set out their meal on the table, if you could call it that. She put out the tolerable bread, sliced. Then a small pot of beans which she thought she must have cooked a little too long because they had started to cream up. Beans were not a commonly eaten food in her previous home and she knew nothing of their preparation.

He had not brought beef, or hadn't said he had so she wondered if she should use the bacon.

He came in not long after, his hair still a little wet but his face and hands clean. He came over to the table and sat down in a slump, as if drained. His eyes went over the set table and then he looked up at her as she stood fidgeting on opposite side from him.

"I didn't get a chance to slaughter some beef. I'm sorry." He said then looked over in the kitchen. "Is there any coffee?"

Faith swallowed at the dread in her throat, "Um yes, well, I think it's just getting hot. I'll check."

She went over to the stove and picked up the pot with a folded cloth. It was horrible coffee and she knew it but what could she do? Bringing it back over to the table she swirled at it desperately then poured it into his cup. At least it was steaming.

"How is the herd?" She asked.

He was watching the off colored coffee fill the cup. It was a lighter brown than it should have been and large granules washed out with it, "What? Oh, fine. Well I reckon I'm missing nigh 58 head."

In brave curiousity North lifted the cup to his lips and drank. Sinking into her seat Faith watched him as his face flinched as if bitten and he stared down into the cup.

Then he looked back up at her, "It's...mighty warm."

Faith knew that he was reaching to be polite.

"So the cows...cattle, they're lost? It must be hard to find them as they roam free." She tried not to sound too ignorant but she must learn and who else was there to tell her but him?

North was dipping a spoon into the beans and sniffed at it when he put it on his plate.

"S'posible but unlikely so many in just a few days." He stopped, not making any conclusions he may have known to her.

She quickly handed him a piece of bread, hoping that it would be her saving grace. "I didn't have any butter but it's just out of the oven not an hour ago."

His face was still serious but he took the slice, "Haven't had bread in a spell, biscuits a couple weeks ago. Butter you can make, I got a milk cow. She's at a neighbor's. I'll fetch her tomorrow. Needs milk'n every morning. But out in the woods, there's thimbleberries and they make a good mash for bread."

After she had cleared up dinner, North sat in his chair at the fire when Faith went to bed. She lay there a while, nervous at any creak she heard. Her eyes watching the door for him to come in. But he didn't and finally she gave way to sleep.

A howling awoke her from her dreams and she was disoriented for a moment, trying to remember where she was. Dim moonlight outlined the bedroom and she turned her head, nervously reaching to feel at the bed beside her. It was empty, unslept on. There was a chill in the air and she shivered but sat up. There was a candle and box of matches next to her and she lit it, casting shadows around the little room. She was in her nightdress and her bare feet but despite the cold she wondered after North.

The other room was just as cold. The fire was down to its embers and there sat North, leaning onto the table, his head pillowed in his arms fast asleep.

Had he just fallen asleep before coming to bed or did he stay out here on purpose? The thought of him keeping away from her was both a relief but also hurtful somehow and she struggled inside over it. She had only known him less than 3 days. Walking back to the bed, Faith pulled the simple but heavy quilt off and brought it into the front room. Gently she draped it over him, sure that he would be roused but he carried on sleeping steadily. Her father's coat hung from a peg by the door and she took it back into bed with her, curling up under it and falling asleep soon after.

When North woke up, only a faint grey light of early morning greeted him as he tried to raise his head from the hard wooden table. His neck complained sharply and he had to ease it to turn forward. His back and legs also stiff as he straightened up he stretched and blinked.

Then he remembered.

He looked at the door to the bedroom which was slightly opened. He was no longer alone. Faith was here. He had mixed feelings boiling up in his mind. A confusing excitement and curiosity. Discomfort at things no longer being what he was used to. Worry. Worry that she would struggle to live here. Finding out she was not a hand at riding, the poor dinner last night, such things he assumed any woman could do. Had he made a mistake? Graham had told him this would be new for her. But then he remembered coming in from the range seeing the warm lights in the windows where none had ever greeted him before. He hadn't expected for her to come out, meeting him at the door. The strange and overwhelming leap in his chest had stopped him in his footsteps and he had to take it in.

When he had seen her on the Henryville platform he was sure it was a mistake. She looked only a girl. Lacking what he would expect an apt woman to convey in stature and attitude, Faith seemed so small and frail, too young. North felt he had been misled and it crossed his mind to walk away. But she was there, keeping her part. When she spoke it had struck him. Not often had he heard someone speak how she had. Proper and prim.

Of course, shy would not even begin to describe him and he had spent less time around women in his life than most. Five brothers, his mother had died when he was young and he grew up at a military post caring for army cattle. Later he had shown a talent in tracking and in knowing the wilderness he was taken on as a scout and liaison to the indian tribes around. Truth was he would rather face a grizzly bear with a stick than be alone with a woman.

But something was different about Faith. He felt responsible, protective but even more importantly, intent on her. That he found her nice to look at was undeniable. The intensity of her dark eyes was different than any others he could remember. The lightness of her voice, even her small frame, she spoke and moved with a sound grace as though to music*. Still, he was concerned if it would be too much for her to change and to handle this mountain that would challenge any woman he supposed. The rawness of the land and little commodities, the isolation. He worried if he would be able to help her do so but more importantly, keep her happy.

And he very much wanted her to be happy.

Then he realized the blanket was laying on the floor, it was from the bed. She must have put it on him after he'd slept. It was a small thing, but nobody had done such a thing for him for a long time.

He picked up the blanket and went to the door. Holding his breath, North opened it and stepped in. There she lay sleeping. It wasn't a dream. Only her large coat lay over her, her cuddled feet protruding out from the bottom. Putting the blanket over her somewhat he sighed.

There was no time for this now, he had trouble. North was sure someone had rustled his cattle. He didn't want to worry the girl. It was his concern. He would go out to track the trail he could not yesterday. Not with such a late start and with just bringing Faith here.

Still wearing his clothes from yesterday he went back to the kitchen and took the wooden bucket and went out to the creek fetching some water. Pouring it in the wash basin in the bedroom he heard her shift, a soft hum escaping her lips. He walked back around to her side of the bed. She looked so perfect sleeping there he didn't want to disturb her but there was work to be done. Gently he touched her shoulder. "Ma'am? Faith?"

Her face turned to him and her eyes fluttered open then widened in alarm. Startled she cried out a little as she looked at him and stiffened, pulling the coat up close to her chin. He couldn't blame her. Embarrassed that he hadn't bothered to tame his hair and beard he must look a sight as he loomed over her.

"Pardon Ma'am…it's morning."

The eyes of slate darted to the window then back to him, her chest rising and falling and she lay back against the pillow.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Coming to herself she said quickly.

She pushed herself up to sitting, her long hair had been braided loosely. Still she held the coat up like a barrier between them.

North smoothed at his hair, "I'll be outside at the creek. There's water in the washstand and a towel there."

He left her. Today he fed the horses and eyed the meager wood pile. Then he washed and headed back into the house. Faith was in the kitchen, the smell of cooking bacon promising and she slipped outside to gather some eggs from the hen house.

It seemed to him she was trying so hard, she was almost frantic as she brought over a tin cup and the coffee pot. He watched her pour it apprehensively, her hand shaking slightly. This time it was black, blackest coffee he'd ever seen and he thought he saw a large lump plop into the cup. It couldn't be as bad as it was yesterday he assured himself. Perhaps the grounds had gone bad he thought as he stared at it. Looking longside at her in the kitchen she had been watching him but quickly turned to the eggs in the pan. Sighing he picked up the cup and it smelled potent but he took a sip. It hit like a slap in the face and had an aftertaste of what he figured axle grease would. But he didn't say anything to her and she brought a plate over. The bacon wasn't burnt but nicely cooked. The eggs were over easy. He should have told her he hated over easy. Maybe she should have asked.

"Thanks ma'am." He heard himself say. "Imma cut a half cord of wood before I go out. I fed the horses but the chickens need to be tended. Oh, there's a cellar there you can get to from the outside*. I got some potatoes, apples, carrots and jerky. I'll bring home some steak tonight."

She nodded shyly.

He worked quickly quartering the logs and the sun rose steadily. He wanted to leave before lunch. Faith wandered out to the barn to get grain for the chickens then went to the well to look in it.

"Which is better? Water from the well or the creek?" She called over to him.

"Doesn't much matter here. Creek water's fresh from the spring. I drove the well just to have the option incase there's a dead critter taint the creek or somethin'. Taste it and see which you cotton to." He said as he wiped the sweat that trickled down his temples with his neckerchief. She put the bucket down and then began to work the winch. He picked up another log and axed it then heard her calling. Looking up she was leaning over the stone wall, her hair tangled up in the pulley system. He dropped the axe and hurried over. It was caught good and if he turned it one way or the other she squeaked in pain.

"Might have to cut it…" He said, following the track of the hair as it looped and spiraled tightly in the wheels.

She looked up at him in alarm, "No please…"

North pulled up the bucket the rest of the way, easing the tension and thought, "If'n you'll stand up on the wall here and lean in as close as you can I might could try to loosen it."

He helped her up and she teetered but he grabbed her around the waist and she round his neck, her forehead pressed his ear.

"Careful there." He repressed an amused smile.

But the slack it gave was enough for him to work the length of hair free and finally she stood away from it, rubbing her scalp, "I think I prefer the creek…"

He almost laughed but nodded, "Might want to tie your hair back proper, leav'n it down ain't practical I s'pose."

After that, with some jerky, an apple and a few slices of bread he rode off into the hills. He had bunched the herd the day before for a quick count and did so again today. Still he came up almost 60 short. It took him hours scouting the woods around. The beasts usually liked to stay in the meadows where the grass was abundant and the water was slower running. Now he noticed it was mostly very young stock, calves and a few of their mothers that had disappeared. This solidifying his suspicions of thievery. Then he came across the tracks at the far end of the valley. Driven cattle and shawed horses. He had brought his rifle and knew it to be loaded as well as his walker colt and started after the trail.

Part of his reasoning for running cattle up in these ranges was the difficulty of taking them out. The only safe route was a long and winding trail of a riverbed that was dry part time of the year. It took days to drive the cattle through there and required many stops for rest and clearing debris that had washed downstream in the wet season of the winter and spring. It wasn't likely a common rustler would bother to do so unless they were targeting him specifically. Not with more available herds easily accessed at the foot of the mountains below.

He frowned. His herd was in fine shape with the feed and easy life they lived up here. His brand he had chosen was a star with a C inside, difficult to alter. But the calves hadn't been branded yet and he scolded himself for waiting so long. He had been preoccupied with getting ready for the girl.

The trail led away from Box Junction, deeper into the mountains. Pine needles covered the ground but every now and again a beach of loose soil would capture the tracks like a fingerprint. North could read a trail clearer and faster than some folks read a newspaper. The placement and size of the hoof and length of the stride. There were three riders all on long legged horses two of which had new shoes. One horse looked as though it was favoring. Another was skittish. Two of the riders were smaller one bigger than he. They had come through most likely the day he'd left. They knew he was going to be gone because he always rode the herd all the hours of light. There had never been a reason to be home before.

He knew these mountains and as the direction of the drive went, there was only one pass out to a wide gully that opened out onto a lonely stretch of prairie. From there the cattle could be taken anywhere, to Henryville or Rio de Negro. The muscles in his jaw and shoulders tightened. Had he passed his own cattle as he rode back from Henryville? 58 head. No, rustlers usually brought larger herds to look legitimate. His stock could very well still be close. But this pass, it was treacherous. Following a narrow trail along a cliff by a tossing, thrashing river.

His bay, Rush, picked up speed at his urge and they followed the trail until it pulled alongside the river. The trail continued at the same elevation but the river fell into rapids that descended with jagged rocks along its sides leaving the trail on a cliff. The other side of the trail was pressured by a sandy, steep hill. The sand would wash down onto the trail making it more slippery. Yes the cattle had come along here! These men were reckless.

He proceeded until something caught his eye 70 feet below. A calf. It had fallen and now lay motionless on the merciless rocky fingers jutting from the side of the river. He kicked his horse forward, a burning anger billowing in him. Further on he found more that had fallen, some may not have died instantly. North had always had an affinity to animals and senseless pain, whether it be from negligence or intentional act, was unacceptable.

From the beginning of his tracking he had learned much about these men who had stolen from him. They were skilled horsemen and knew cattle, also they were devious and they were cruel. Would they come back to take more? Perhaps if the the timing was right. And they'd have to know it ahead of time somehow. That meant it was most likely someone who he knew of or at least someone he knew passed the information on.

He had few friends as he had lived a solitary life away from town. His brothers all lived in California and so he was left to himself mostly. The field was narrow. Going over his acquaintances in his mind it couldn't have been more than four or five people.

The path began to broaden and there were no more carcass'. There had been 21 lost over the edge. All their effort for 37 cattle. He reined in his horse and looked down into the widening gully. The rustled cattle were gone to him, even if he caught up to them they'd be branded and mixed in with others by now. North had clues and he would be patient, but he would find out who had done this.

But he had responsibilities behind him now. He would round up the remaining calves to brand at once and a cow for beef then pick up the milking cow from the old Kiowa man that lived two ridges over.

Turning his horse he headed back into the mountain.