He raised a hand; she raised hers, held up one finger. He nodded, and disappeared into the dark.

* * *

Silently, Elizabeth closed the door of the sleeping house behind her and pulled her shawl tight. She started at the long shape of her own moon shadow, flat and stark. There was no sign of Nathaniel. She thought for a moment that she had imagined him, dreamt the whole thing.

She had almost walked past him when he reached out and caught her wrist, pulled her up against the wall of the house. They stood there, shoulder to shoulder, Elizabeth trying hard to calm her breathing, the candle flame shaking with the beating of her heart. She followed him to the barn where he stopped to look at her, his face all angles in the moonlight.

Wait, he whispered. She stood shivering, her hair breaking in waves around her shoulders like a wild sea.

He came back, gestured her forward.

The horses shifted uneasily in their stalls. Elizabeth stood opposite the oxen and felt their dull eyes on her, blinking, blinking, their great bulk radiating pungent warmth. Nathaniel's hand pressing her wrist told her to be quiet. They stood like that for minutes, until the animals grew tired of them and turned inward once again. There was a bale of straw in an empty box.

The candlelight jumped on the rough board walls, a small circle, as valuable as gold in this darkness. Nathaniel took the candlestick out of her hand, his fingertips touching her wrist, sliding over the beating of her pulse. Elizabeth let it go with an indrawn breath.

When he had found a secure spot for the candle on the tack shelf above their heads, he sat next to her on the bale of straw. He bore the scars of the game: a crust of blood over an eyebrow, a bruise on his cheekbone. His hair was tangled, his cheeks stained dark with growing beard. She held on tight to her own hands, which wanted to raise themselves and touch him, make sure that he was real, that this was real.

"Talk to me."

Elizabeth told him. She told him about Richard's proposal, about the corner her father had put himself in, about Richard's plan for Hidden Wolf. She told him about her discussion with Mr. Bennett, most of it word for word. She talked and talked in a low voice, feeling his eyes on her the whole time, but unable to meet his gaze.

"And there's this." From the pocket of her dress she drew forth a folded piece of newspaper and put it in Nathaniel's lap. She watched the candlelight on his face while he read.

* * *

WANTED. Any word on the whereabouts of the old Indian Sachem Chingachgook, known also as Great—Snake or Indian John. To settle a debt.

Jack Lingo. Leave a message at the Trading Post, Stumptown.

* * *

He rubbed the stubble on his jaw thoughtfully.

"Who's Jack Lingo, and what does he want from your grandfather?" Elizabeth asked.

"He's an old voyageur," said Nathaniel. "He wanders the bush causing trouble and looking for the Tory Gold." He raised one brow. "Is that what you want to talk about?"

She swallowed hard.

"No. I think we should talk about Richard."

"What about him?"

Elizabeth looked Nathaniel straight in the eye. "I wish you had told me. About Richard's mother."

He looked at her, surprised. "Would it have changed something?"

Elizabeth wound her fingers in her shawl. "No. But it makes him easier to predict. And to understand, with his mother buried on Hidden Wolf."

"My mother is buried there, too."

"I didn't mean he had a better claim. Just that it makes me see him a little more clearly."

Nathaniel's watchfulness eased a bit. "It's not just his ma that draws him to Hidden Wolf you know. It's more complicated than that. It has to do with Sarah."

"I don't know if I want to hear this right now," Elizabeth said, dropping her gaze. Sarah was one subject she had not anticipated in this discussion, one subject she had been pushing away from herself firmly for days.

"Never underestimate the force of a blow to a man's pride," Nathaniel said. "Or what he might do to see it set right. Richard wanted Sarah, once upon a time. And now he wants you."

"Well, I'm very sorry for his early trouble and loss," Elizabeth said. "But I can't marry him to salvage his pride, and I won't marry him and watch him turn you off Hidden Wolf. And he won't buy it, either, not if I have my way."

Finally, a grin. "I'm right glad to hear that," Nathaniel said. "But what did you have in mind?"

"I could just pay my father's debts, but it would mean all of my savings," Elizabeth said. "And in a few years' time he'd most likely be living beyond his income again, or making bad investments—"

"And there'd be no more funds to bail him out," Nathaniel finished.

She nodded.

“So.”

Elizabeth glanced around. The candlelight cast a meager oval; it painted Nathaniel's face in quiet tones, softening the strong lines of his face. He was looking at her with infinite patience, and something more, something she had been hoping for. She drew in a deep breath.

"I will let Richard court me," Elizabeth said slowly. "Until my father is sure enough of me to sign the deed of gift. That will have to be done in Johnstown, before Mr. Bennett, as magistrate. And then—" She swallowed hard.

"And then?"

It took every bit of courage in her, but she met his gaze. "We could marry. You and I—" She pushed on, stumbling, her voice cracking. "Immediately. At that moment all property I own becomes yours. And that would include Hidden Wolf of course."