She Found the Cowboy Cleaning His Rifle, Not Knowing He Was A Dad

The distant howl of a coyote pierced the cold morning air as Daisy Zimmer stood frozen in the doorway, her hands still wrapped around the worn brass knob, her eyes fixed on the scene before her. She had expected to find the small cabin empty, perhaps dusty from disuse, but instead there he was a man with broad shoulders hunched over a rifle laid across his lap, his calloused fingers working methodically to clean the barrel.

 And beside him, nestled in a makeshift cradle fashioned from a wooden crate lined with blankets, slept a tiny baby no more than a few months old, Montana territory, 1878. Daisy hadn’t planned on finding anyone, let alone a man and an infant, when she’d fled her home in St. Louis 3 weeks ago. The journey west had been grueling, filled with uncertainty and fear, but nothing had prepared her for this moment.

 I I’m sorry, she stammered, taking a step back. I didn’t know anyone was here. The man’s head snapped up, his hand instinctively moving to position his body between her and the child. His eyes the color of a stormy sky narrowed with suspicion.

 “This is private property, madam,” he said, his voice low and rough like he hadn’t used it in some time. “Where’d you come from?” Daisy swallowed hard, suddenly aware of her disheveled appearance. her once fine dress now travel worn and dirty, her honey blonde hair falling loose from its pins. I was told this cabin was abandoned. I’ve been traveling for weeks and needed shelter. She glanced at the darkening sky outside. A storm’s coming.

 The man followed her gaze to the window where heavy clouds gathered on the horizon. He seemed to be weighing his options, his jaw working beneath a beard that hadn’t seen a razor in at least a week. Finally, he nodded toward the interior of the cabin. Come in then. Close the door before you let all the heat out.

 Daisy hesitated only a moment before stepping fully inside and shutting the door behind her. The cabin was small but tidy. A single room with a stone fireplace at one end, a rough huneed table with two chairs, a narrow bed in the corner, and a few wooden crates serving as makeshift furniture. The scent of coffee hung in the air, mingling with the smell of gun oil.

 “Thank you,” she said, remaining by the door. “I’m Daisy. Daisy Zimmer.” The man set the rifle aside carefully, keeping it well out of reach of the sleeping infant. “Preston Tucker,” he replied, standing to his full height, which must have been over 6 ft. “And that’s Hannah.” “Daisy’s eyes moved to the sleeping baby.” “Your daughter?” she asked softly.

 A shadow passed over Preston’s face. “Yes,” he answered, but offered nothing more. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the gentle breathing of the child and the crackle of the fire. “The storm looks bad,” Preston finally said, moving to the window to peer out at the darkening sky. “You can stay until it passes. Then you’ll need to move on.

” “Where’s the nearest town?” Daisy asked, setting down the small bag that contained all she had left in the world, Timber Creek. Two days ride east. He glanced at her, taking in her lack of horse or proper traveling gear. You walked here, Daisy nodded. The stage coach only went as far as Miller’s crossing. I’ve been on foot since then. Preston’s eyebrows rose slightly. That’s 30 mi of rough country.

I didn’t have much choice, she said simply. Before Preston could respond, the baby in the crate began to stir, tiny fists waving in the air as her face scrunched up in preparation to cry. Preston moved with surprising gentleness for such a large man, scooping the infant up and cradling her against his chest. “Hh, Hannah,” he murmured. “You’re all right.

” The baby’s cries grew more insistent, and Preston’s expression turned to one of barely concealed panic. “She’s hungry, but I’m running low on milk. been mixing it with water to make it last. Without thinking, Daisy stepped forward and held out her arms. May I? I worked in an orphanage in St. Louis. I know a thing or two about babies.

Preston hesitated, then carefully transferred the squirming infant to Daisy’s waiting arms. Hannah continued to cry, but Daisy bounced her gently, humming a soft tune as she paced the small cabin. “Do you have any oats?” she asked in that sack by the fireplace. and honey. Small jar on the shelf. Daisy nodded.

 I can make her a porridge that will fill her belly until you can get more milk. She looked up at Preston, whose face showed a mixture of relief and weariness. If you’ll hold her a moment, I’ll prepare it. The exchange was made again, and Daisy set to work at the small stove, occasionally glancing over her shoulder at the unlikely pair.

Preston Tucker was not what anyone would call a conventional father. His rough hands looked more suited to breaking horses than cradling infants, and the gun calluses spoke of a man who’d spent more time with weapons than with children.

 “Yet there was tenderness in the way he held his daughter, a fierce protectiveness that Daisy recognized all too well.” “Where’s her mother?” Daisy asked softly as she stirred the simple porridge. Preston’s face hardened. “Dead?” he said flatly. “Child birth fever took her 3 months ago.” I’m sorry, Daisy said, and she meant it. She knew what it was to lose someone you loved, to have your world appended in a single moment.

 Outside, the first fat drops of rain began to hit the roof, and the wind picked up, whistling through the cracks in the cabin walls. “The storm had arrived, and with it, the certainty that Daisy would be spending the night under Preston Tucker’s roof. “The porridge is ready,” she said, taking a small spoon from a drawer. It’s not much, but it should help.

Preston watched with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion as Daisy fed tiny spoonfuls to Hannah, who eagerly accepted the simple meal. The baby’s cries subsided, replaced by contented gurgles. “Where did you learn to do that?” Preston asked. Daisy smiled, the first genuine smile she’d managed in weeks. “Like I said, I worked in an orphanage.

 You learn to make do with what you have when there are 20 hungry babies and not enough of anything to go around. Preston nodded, watching as Hannah’s eyes began to droop. You’re good with her. She’s a beautiful baby, Daisy said softly. She has your eyes. A ghost of a smile touched Preston’s lips. Her mother’s nose though, and her spirit, God help me. Once Hannah was asleep again, carefully laid back in her makeshift cradle, Preston gestured to the table.

Sit. You must be hungry, too. Daisy didn’t argue. She was starving, having rationed her meager supplies carefully over the past days. Preston lattled stew from a pot hanging over the fire into a wooden bowl and placed it before her along with a chunk of bread. “It’s not much,” he said, echoing her earlier words.

 “It’s more than I’ve had in days,” she replied honestly, taking a spoonful. The stew was simple rabbit, she thought, with a few root vegetables, but it was hot and filling. As she ate, Preston returned to his rifle, continuing the cleaning process he’d been engaged in when she arrived. His movements were practiced, methodical, a man who knew his weapon intimately.

 “Are you expecting trouble?” Daisy asked between bites, nodding toward the gun. Preston’s hands paused momentarily. “Out here, it’s best to be prepared,” he said. Wolves get hungry in the winter, and some men are worse than wolves. Daisy nodded, understanding all too well what he meant. How long have you been here? Just the two of you.

Since Hannah was born, Preston replied, “Had a ranch about 50 mi north, but after Lily died, he trailed off, focusing intently on the gun parts before him. This place belonged to an old trapping partner of mine. Figured it would do until Hannah’s a bit older.” The simple statement held volumes of unspoken grief and uncertainty.

Daisy recognized the look of a person trying to navigate a life they hadn’t planned for. And what then? She asked gently. Preston shrugged. Haven’t thought that far ahead. Just taking it day by day. Daisy nodded, understanding completely. That’s all any of us can do sometimes. The rain was falling in earnest now, drumming on the roof and turning the ground outside to mud.

 Lightning flashed, briefly, illuminating the small cabin, followed by a crack of thunder that made Daisy jump. “Hannah stirred, but didn’t wake. “You’ll have to stay the night,” Preston said, more a statement of fact than an invitation. “You can take the bed, Hannah, and I will manage by the fire.” “I couldn’t possibly, you could,” he interrupted.

“And you will.” I’m not in the habit of making women sleep on the floor while I take the bed. There was something in his tone that bked no argument, so Daisy simply nodded her thanks. As the evening wore on, they fell into an unexpected rhythm. Daisy tending to Hannah when she woke fussing. Preston adding logs to the fire to keep the chill at bay.

 They spoke little, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. When Hannah woke crying in earnest around midnight, it was Daisy who rose first, lifting the baby before Preston could even get to his feet from his bed roll near the fire. “I’ve got her,” Daisy said softly. “Go back to sleep.” Preston watched as Daisy paced the small cabin, softly singing a lullaby to his daughter.

 in the flickering fire light with her hair loose around her shoulders and Hannah nestled against her chest. She looked like she belonged there like this could be her cabin, her child. The thought unsettled him. “Who are you running from?” he asked suddenly. Daisy froze midstep, her arms tightening instinctively around Hannah.

 “What makes you think I’m running from someone?” she countered, but her voice lacked conviction. Preston sat up, leaning against the wall. A woman doesn’t travel 30 m alone through Montana wilderness because she’s out for a pleasant stroll. You’re running same as me. Daisy resumed her pacing, silent for so long that Preston thought she might not answer.

 Finally, she spoke, her voice barely audible over the rain. My husband died 6 months ago, or at least that’s what everyone believes. Preston waited, sensing there was more to the story. Walter was a banker, she continued. respected in the community, generous with donations to the church and orphanage where I worked. He courted me for nearly a year before we married. I thought I was the luckiest woman in St. Louis,” she gave a bitter laugh.

 “It wasn’t until after the wedding that I learned what he really was.” “And what was that?” Preston asked quietly. Daisy turned to face him, her eyes reflecting the fire light. a monster who enjoyed hurting those weaker than himself, who gambled away our money and then blamed me for our financial troubles.

 Who? She trailed off looking down at Hannah, who had fallen back asleep. Let’s just say the bruises were easiest to hide in winter when I could wear high collars and long sleeves. Anger flashed across Preston’s face. Your husband beat you? It wasn’t a question, but Daisy nodded anyway. for 2 years until one night he came home drunk, angrier than I’d ever seen him. He had a gun. She swallowed hard. We struggled.

The gun went off. Understanding dawned on Preston’s face. You killed him. It was an accident, Daisy said quickly, her voice trembling. But his brother is the sheriff, and he never approved of Walter marrying an orphan with no family connections. He wouldn’t believe me. I had to run.

 Hannah stirred in Daisy’s arms, sensing her distress. Daisy forced herself to take deep breaths to calm down for the baby’s sake. “So, you headed west,” Preston said. “As far as my money would take me, which was Miller’s Crossing, I’ve been walking since then, staying in abandoned barns, sleeping rough when I had to.” She looked around the small cabin.

When I saw smoke from your chimney, I thought this place might be inhabited, but I was desperate. The storm was coming and I was so tired. Preston stood and crossed to where she stood. Without a word, he took Hannah from her arms and placed the sleeping baby back in her cradle. Then he turned to Daisy. You did what you had to do? He said simply.

 Same as I’m doing. Are you running too? Daisy asked suddenly realizing she knew nothing about this man beyond the fact that he was a widowerower with a baby daughter. Preston’s expression closed off. Get some sleep, Miss Zimmer. Storm might break by morning, and you’ll want to be rested for your journey.

 With that, he returned to his bed roll, effectively ending the conversation. Daisy stood for a moment longer, watching as he turned his back to her, then returned to the narrow bed, pulling the rough blanket up to her chin. Despite her exhaustion, sleep was long in coming, her mind filled with thoughts of the strange tacetern man and his motherless daughter. The storm didn’t break by morning.

 If anything, it intensified with howling winds that threatened to tear the roof from the cabin and rain so heavy it turned the nearby creek into a raging torrent. There would be no traveling that day or likely the next. Preston accepted this reality with stoic resignation, going about his morning routine as if Daisy’s presence was merely an inconvenient but unavoidable fact.

 He tended to Hannah first, changing her with practiced efficiency before Daisy could offer to help. Then he built up the fire and put coffee on to boil. “You’ll have to stay until the creek goes down,” he said, glancing out the window at the dismal weather. “Trying to cross it now would be suicide.” “I’m sorry to impose,” Daisy said, trying to smooth her wrinkled dress and pin up her hair into some semblance of order. Preston shrugged.

 “Not your fault. Weather does what it wants out here. He handed her a cup of strong black coffee. We need to talk about provisions, though. Wasn’t expecting to feed an extra mouth. Daisy reached for her bag. I have some money. Not much, but Preston waved her off. Keep your money. What I meant was we need to be careful with what we have. I was planning to hunt today, but with the storm, he gestured to the window.

I can help stretch what you have, Daisy offered. I’m good at making a little go a long way. Preston eyed her for a moment, then nodded. All right, show me. And so began their unexpected cohabitation. Daisy took stock of Preston’s meager pantry. Some flour, beans, dried meat, the last of the oats, a bit of honey, and a few potatoes starting to sprout.

 With careful rationing and some creativity, she assured him they could manage for at least a week, hopefully long enough for the storm to pass. As the day wore on, they fell into a natural division of labor. Preston took care of the essential tasks, keeping the fire burning, checking for leaks in the roof, making sure no water was getting into the small lean to where his horse was stabled.

 Daisy cared for Hannah and prepared their meals, turning simple ingredients into surprisingly satisfying dishes. By evening, the cabin felt different, somehow warmer, more like a home than just a shelter. Hannah lay on a blanket near the fire, cooing and kicking her legs as Daisy sang to her and dangled a wooden spoon for her to grab.

 Preston, returning from checking on his horse, paused in the doorway, struck by the domestic scene before him. For a moment, he could almost pretend this was his life, not the broken pieces he’d been trying to hold together since Lily died, but something whole and good. The thought scared him more than he cared to admit. Storm’s not letting up, he said, closing the door against the wind and rain.

Creeks higher than I’ve ever seen it. Daisy looked up, catching something in his expression she couldn’t quite name. “We’ll be all right,” she said softly. “We have shelter, food, warmth. That’s more than many have in weather like this.” Preston nodded, moving to the fire to warm his hands.

 “You’re right about that.” That night, as they sat by the fire after Hannah had fallen asleep, Preston finally spoke of what had brought him to this isolated cabin. “I was a rancher before,” he said, his eyes fixed on the flames. “Had a decent spread north of here.” “Nothing fancy, but it was growing. Lily and I had plans.

” “Daisy” listened quietly, sensing that Preston wasn’t a man who shared his thoughts often. When she told me she was expecting, I was scared half to death, he continued with a rofal smile. “What did I know about being a father?” “But Lily,” she was so happy, started making plans right away. A cradle, baby clothes, even talking about which room would be the nursery.

 His smile faded. She never got to see any of it. “What happened?” Daisy asked gently, Preston’s jaw tightened. “The birth was hard. Too hard.” The doctor said afterwards there was nothing that could have been done, but I don’t believe him. If we’d been closer to town, if I’d gotten her help sooner, he shook his head.

 She held Hannah once, just long enough to name her after her mother, and then she was gone. The pain in his voice was raw, unhealed. Daisy resisted the urge to reach out and touch his hand. After the funeral, I couldn’t stay at the ranch. Too many memories, too many plans we’d made together, and I didn’t know the first thing about caring for a baby.

 He ran a hand over his face. “I sold the ranch to my neighbor for less than it was worth just to be done with it. Packed what I could carry and came here to start over?” Daisy asked. Preston shrugged. “To hide, maybe to grieve. To figure out how to be a father to Hannah when I can barely take care of myself.” “You’re doing better than you think,” Daisy said, glancing at the sleeping infant. “She’s healthy, happy.

 That counts for a lot. Only because I’ve been lucky,” Preston countered. And now with winter coming, he let the thought trail off, but Daisy understood. Winter in Montana was no time to be alone in a remote cabin with a baby. You could go to town, she suggested. Timber Creek, you said. Surely there are people who could help. No.

 Preston cut her off sharply. We’re better off alone. There was something in his tone, a finality that suggested this wasn’t just about grief or solitude. Daisy remembered her own words from the night before. “You’re running, too.” “What happened at the ranch, Preston?” she asked quietly. “What are you not telling me?” For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer.

 Then he reached for the coffee pot, pouring the last of the now cold coffee into his cup. Before I sold the ranch, I had a runin with some men, cattle rustlers. They’d been working their way through the valley, hitting the smaller spreads that couldn’t afford to hire extra hands for protection. He took a sip of the cold coffee, grimacing at the taste. They came to my place about a week after Lily died. “Maybe they thought I’d be too griefstricken to put up a fight.

” “Were you?” Daisy asked. A grim smile crossed Preston’s face. “I was griefstricken, all right, but that just made me more dangerous. I caught two of them trying to drive off my best breeding stock. Shot one in the shoulder, got the other in the leg. His expression darkened. Turns out they had powerful friends. The wounded men were cousins to Judge Blackwell and Helina.

 Next thing I know, there’s a warrant out for my arrest for attempted murder. But they were stealing your cattle. Daisy protested. Their story was they were just passing through, asked for water for their horses, and I came out shooting like a madman. Preston’s laugh held no humor.

 And who do you think the authorities believed? A grieving widowerower who everyone in town already thought had gone half crazy with loss, or the cousins of one of the most respected judges in the territory. Understanding dawned on Daisy’s face. So you ran, sold the ranch, grabbed Hannah, and disappeared before the sheriff could serve the warrant. Preston set his cup down with more force than necessary.

Been here ever since, trying to figure out what to do next. Can’t stay forever, but can’t exactly waltz into town with Hannah, either. The fire crackled in the silence that followed his confession. Outside, the rain continued its relentless pounding on the roof.

 Seems we’re both on the wrong side of the law,” Daisy finally said, a rise smile lifting the corners of her mouth. Preston looked at her, really looked at her for perhaps the first time since she’d arrived. In the fire light, with her honey blonde hair falling loose around her shoulders, and her green eyes reflecting the flames, she was beautiful, not in the delicate way Lily had been, but with a strength and resilience that spoke of a woman who had faced hardship and survived. Seems we are,” he agreed.

 And something shifted between them in that moment, a recognition perhaps of kindred spirits bound by circumstance and shared secrets. The storm continued for three more days, keeping them confined to the small cabin. What might have been an uncomfortable imprisonment instead became a time of unexpected connection.

 Daisy proved herself not just useful, but essential, caring for Hannah with natural ease, while also teaching Preston how to better tend to his daughter’s needs. “You need to support her head more when you lift her,” Daisy demonstrated, cradling Hannah against her shoulder. “She’s getting stronger, but her neck muscles aren’t fully developed yet.

” Preston watched intently, then mimicked Daisy’s actions when she transferred Hannah to his arms. The baby gurgled happily, grabbing at his beard with tiny fingers. “See, she loves when you hold her,” Daisy said, smiling at the pair. “Only because you’ve shown me how to do it without making her cry,” Preston replied. “But there was a softness in his eyes when he looked at his daughter that hadn’t been there before.

” In the evenings after Hannah was asleep, they would sit by the fire and talk, sharing pieces of their lives, building a fragile bridge of trust between them. Preston spoke of his life before the ranch, how he’d come west as a young man looking for adventure, and found instead a purpose in the land and the animals he raised.

 Daisy told him about growing up in the orphanage, how she’d stayed on as a helper when she was old enough, because it was the only home she’d known. That’s how I met Walter, she said on the third night, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the wooden table. He came to make a donation on behalf of his bank. He was so charming, so interested in the work we were doing. When he asked to call on me, it felt like something from a story book.

 The charming prince, Preston said, understanding in his voice. Daisy nodded. Exactly. What orphan girl doesn’t dream of being rescued, of finally belonging to someone? she sighed. I was so naive. You were hopeful. Preston corrected gently. There’s no shame in that. On the morning of the fourth day, they awoke to silence. The storm had finally passed.

 Sunlight streamed through the cabin’s small windows, casting everything in a golden glow. Preston stepped outside to survey the damage while Daisy fed Hannah her morning porridge. “Creek still high, but it’s going down,” he reported when he returned. Another day or two and it should be safe to cross. The words hung between them, a reminder that their temporary arrangement had always been just that temporary.

 Daisy would continue to Timber Creek and Preston and Hannah would what? Stay in the cabin until winter forced them out. Head further into the wilderness to escape the law. I’ve been thinking, Daisy said carefully as she wiped porridge from Hannah’s chin. About what happens next? Preston tensed visibly. You don’t need to worry about us. will manage. “I’m sure you will,” Daisy replied.

 “But winter’s coming, and this cabin isn’t ready for it. The north wall has cracks big enough to let in drafts that could make Hannah sick. And you’re running low on everything: food, lamp, oil, medicine.” “I know that,” Preston snapped, then immediately looked contrite. “I’m sorry.

” “I know you’re just stating facts,” Daisy took a deep breath. “What if we helped each other?” Preston raised an eyebrow. How do you figure that would work? I need to get far enough away that Walter’s brother can’t find me. You need to keep Hannah safe and prepare for winter. Daisy met his gaze steadily.

 I’m good with children and I know how to make a home comfortable even with limited resources. You know this land, how to hunt, how to stay hidden. Are you suggesting we stay together? Preston asked, surprise evident in his voice. as a practical arrangement,” Daisy clarified quickly, though her cheeks flushed slightly. “Just until spring, perhaps by then you could have a plan for something more permanent for Hannah, and I could have saved enough to move on. Perhaps to Oregon or California.

” Preston was silent for a long moment, “Considering.” “It wouldn’t be proper,” he finally said. Daisy almost laughed. “Preston, we’re both fugitives. I think proper is the least of our concerns.” A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. Fair point, but what would people think if what people Daisy interrupted, “You said yourself, you’ve been hiding out here for months.

 Has anyone come calling? Does anyone even know you’re here?” “No,” Preston admitted. “That was rather the point.” “Then why worry about appearances? This is about survival, yours, Hannah’s, and mine.” Daisy looked down at the baby in her lap, who was contentedly gumming her own fist. She needs stability, Preston. A safe place to grow. I can help provide that, at least for a while.

 Preston ran a hand through his hair, clearly torn. And what do you get out of this arrangement? Safety. Shelter. A chance to catch my breath and plan my next steps without looking over my shoulder every minute. Daisy’s voice softened. And I’d get to be around Hannah. I’ve grown rather attached to her. Something flickered in Preston’s eyes, recognition perhaps, of the genuine affection Daisy had developed for his daughter. Or maybe it was something more, something neither of them was ready to name. All right, he said

finally, until spring, but there need to be rules, boundaries. Of course, Daisy agreed quickly. And if either of us feels the arrangement isn’t working, we say so. No hard feelings. Agreed. Preston extended his hand as if to seal the deal with a handshake. Daisy placed her smaller hand in his, noting the calluses on his palm, the strength in his grip, and the unexpected gentleness with which he held her hand.

“Partners, then,” Preston said. “Partners,” Daisy echoed and felt for the first time in months something like hope unfurl in her chest. “With the decision made, they wasted no time in implementing their plan. The creek was still too high to cross safely, which gave them several days to prepare the cabin for winter.

 Preston showed Daisy the root seller dug into the hillside behind the cabin where they could store preserves and root vegetables to keep them from freezing. “It’s nearly empty now,” he said, holding up a lantern to illuminate the small underground space. But if I can get a deer or two before the first snow, we’ll have meat, and there are wild berries on the ridge that should be ripe for picking. Daisy nodded, already making mental calculations about what they would need.

I saw cattails growing by the creek. The roots can be ground into flour if we run low, and I know how to preserve just about anything if you can find me some jars and vinegar. Their planning was interrupted by Hannah’s cries from inside the cabin. Both adults turned automatically, their shared concern for the baby creating an instant bond that transcended their still new partnership.

 Over the next week, as the creek gradually returned to its normal level, Preston and Daisy settled into a routine that felt surprisingly natural. Mornings began early with Preston tending to his horse and checking his traps while Daisy cared for Hannah and prepared breakfast. Afternoons were spent on the various tasks needed to prepare for winter daisy patching holes in the cabin walls with a mixture of mud and straw pressed in chopping firewood and stacking it against the cabin’s western wall.

In the evenings after Hannah was asleep, they would sit by the fire and continue to plan, their heads bent close together over a rough map Preston had sketched of the surrounding area. There’s good hunting in this valley, he’d say, pointing to a location. And hickory nuts in these woods if we can beat the squirrels to them.

 Daisy would nod, committing the information to memory, occasionally making suggestions of her own. We should gather as many pine needles as we can before the snow. They make a tea rich in vitamins that helps prevent winter illness.

 On the eighth day after the storm, Preston announced it was time to go to town for supplies. The creek’s down enough to cross safely, and we need things we can’t find or make here, he said as they finished their breakfast. “Salt, coffee, cloth for diapers, medicine in case Hannah gets sick.” Daisy nodded, understanding the necessity, but a flicker of worry crossed her face. “Is it safe for you to go to town? What about the warrant?” Preston’s expression was grim.

 “It’s not ideal, but Timber Creek is small and off the main routes. News travels slow and I can’t send you alone. It’s too dangerous for a woman by herself, especially with the kind of men who pass through these parts. What about Hannah? Daisy asked, looking at the baby who was happily playing with a wooden spoon on a blanket near the fire. Preston hesitated, clearly torn.

 I thought perhaps you could stay with her. I’d feel better knowing she was with someone who knows how to care for her properly. The simple admission that he trusted Daisy with his daughter’s well-being touched her deeply. “Of course, I’ll stay with her,” she said softly. “Well be fine until you return.

” Preston nodded, relief visible in his eyes. “I should be back by nightfall if I’m not.” He trailed off, then shook his head as if dismissing the thought. “I will be, but just in case, there’s a loaded rifle above the door and extra ammunition in the metal box under my bed roll.” The fact that he was preparing her for the possibility that he might not return sent a chill through Daisy.

 She had only known this man for a short time, but the thought of being left alone of Hannah losing her father as she had already lost her mother was almost unbearable. “You’ll come back,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “Hannah and I will be waiting.” The look Preston gave her then was complicated, filled with emotions neither of them was ready to name.

Without another word, he gathered his saddle bags and gun belt, checked his rifle one last time, and headed for the door. “Preston,” Daisy called just as he was about to step outside. When he turned, she crossed to him quickly and straightened the collar of his worn coat. “Be careful.” His hand caught hers, holding it briefly against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her palm, steady and strong.

 “I will,” he promised. And then he was gone, the door closing behind him with a soft thud that seemed to echo in the suddenly quiet cabin. The day passed with agonizing slowness. Daisy kept herself busy caring for Hannah, cleaning the cabin, and preparing a stew from the last of their supplies, all the while listening for the sound of hoofbeats that would signal Preston’s return.

 As the afternoon waned and shadows lengthened across the cabin floor, her anxiety grew. Hannah, perhaps sensing Daisy’s unease, became fussy, refusing to nap and crying whenever Daisy sat her down. By sunset, with still no sign of Preston, Daisy was pacing the cabin with the baby on her hip, singing softly more to calm herself than Hannah.

 When darkness fell completely and the stew had been simmering for hours, Daisy began to fear the worst. Had Preston been recognized in town, arrested? Or had something happened on the journey in accident and attack by wolves or bandits? She had just resigned herself to a sleepless night of worry when she heard at the distant sound of a horse approaching at a trot.

 Relief flooded through her so intensely that her knees felt weak. She quickly placed Hannah in her cradle and moved to the door, pausing only to check her appearance in the small cracked mirror that hung on the wall. The sight that greeted her when she opened the door sent her heart into her throat. “Preston was dismounting slowly, favoring his left side, his face ghostly pale in the moonlight. Blood stained the right shoulder of his coat.

” “Preston?” she gasped, rushing to his side. “What happened? Are you all right?” I’m fine,” he grunted, though his pained expression belied his words. “Just a scratch. Help me with these supplies.” Daisy ignored his attempt at dismissal, moving to examine his injury. “That’s not a scratch. You’re bleeding heavily.

 Come inside where I can see properly.” Too weak to argue, Preston allowed her to guide him into the cabin and ease him onto a chair near the fire. Hannah, awakened by the commotion, began to whimper, but Daisy’s focus was entirely on Preston. “I need to see the wound,” she said, helping him remove his coat and shirt.

A deep gash ran across his upper arm, still seeping blood. “This needs stitches,” Preston nodded weakly. “There’s a medical kit in the saddle bags. Managed to get everything we needed before he trailed off, his face pale with blood loss.

” Daisy worked quickly, first attending to Hannah to ensure she was comfortable, then retrieving the medical supplies from Preston’s horse. To her relief, among the items he’d purchased was a proper medical kit with needle, thread, and disinfectant. “This will hurt,” she warned as she cleaned the wound with whiskey from a bottle he’d also brought back.

 Pressed and hissed through clenched teeth, but didn’t cry out. “Not my first bullet graze,” he managed. “Bullet?” Daisy’s hands stilled. Preston, what happened in town? He sighed, wincing as she began to stitch the wound closed. Ran into trouble on the way back. Three men tried to rob me about 5 mi from here.

 I think they were just opportunists, not law men, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m worried about you bleeding to death, Daisy retorted, though relief that he hadn’t been recognized flooded through her. Takes more than this to kill me,” Preston said, attempting a smile that came out as more of a grimace. “Besides, I got two of them before they decided the supplies weren’t worth it.

They won’t be back.” Daisy concentrated on her stitching, trying not to think about what might have happened if Preston’s aim had been less true, or if the bullet had struck a few inches to the left, closer to his heart. There,” she said, finally, cutting the thread and applying a salve from the medical kit to the wound before bandaging it. “You should rest now. You’ve lost blood.” Preston nodded tiredly.

 “The supplies? I’ll take care of them.” Daisy assured him. “You need to sleep.” With her help, Preston made it to the bed, the first time he’d used it since Daisy’s arrival. As she pulled the blanket over him, his hand caught hers. Thank you, he said softly. For being here, for taking care of Hannah for, he gestured vaguely at his bandaged arm.

That’s what partners do, Daisy replied with a gentle smile. Rest now, we’ll talk in the morning. As Preston drifted into an exhausted sleep, Daisy busied herself with unloading the supplies he’d brought. Coffee, flour, sugar, salt, dried beans, ammunition, fabric, and most precious of all, several small jars of milk for Hannah.

 Despite the danger he’d faced, Preston had managed to acquire everything they needed and more. The realization of how easily she might have lost him, this man she barely knew, but who had somehow become essential to her well-being, hit Daisy with unexpected force. She sank onto a chair, suddenly overwhelmed by emotions she couldn’t quite name.

 Across the room, Preston slept fitfully, his face relaxed in sleep in a way it never was when he was awake. Beside him, in her cradle, Hannah slept peacefully, unaware of how close she had come to losing her father. In that moment, Daisy knew with absolute certainty that what had begun as a partnership of convenience had become something far more complicated and far more precious.

 Morning brought a weak October sun and a pale-faced but alert Preston, who insisted on getting up despite Daisy’s objections. “I can’t lie in bed all day,” he argued, though he moved stiffly as he rose. “There’s too much to do before winter sets improperly. The wound could open if you strain yourself, Daisy countered, placing a cup of hot coffee in his hands. At least take today to rest.

Their compromise was that Preston would direct rather than do the heavy work. He sat at the table cleaning and oiling his guns while instructing Daisy on how to properly store their new supplies. Hannah played on a blanket nearby, occasionally babbling happily when either adult spoke to her.

 The domesticity of the scene wasn’t lost on either of them. More than once, Daisy caught Preston watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite interpret something between wonder and weariness, as if he too was realizing that their arrangement had evolved beyond simple practicality. That evening, as they sat before the fire sharing a simple meal, Preston finally spoke of what had been on his mind.

 When those men attacked me yesterday, all I could think about was Hannah, he said quietly. And you? What would happen to you both if I didn’t make it back? Daisy set down her spoon, her appetite suddenly gone. Don’t talk like that. It’s a reality we have to face. Preston insisted. This life out here, it’s dangerous, unpredictable.

 I chose it because I didn’t see another option, but I can’t pretend it’s ideal for raising a child. What are you saying? Daisy asked, though she feared she knew where this conversation was heading. Preston side, rubbing his injured arm absently. I’m saying that maybe we need to consider other possibilities for Hannah’s sake. Like what? Turning yourself in.

 You said yourself the judge has influence you could hang for defending your property. Not that. Preston shook his head. But maybe maybe we should consider moving on further west. Perhaps California or even Oregon like you mentioned somewhere. where no one knows us. Where we could start fresh. The we hung in the air between them. Significant and unmistakable.

 Together, Daisy asked softly. Preston met her gaze, his eyes reflecting the fire light. It makes sense, doesn’t it, for Hannah. She needs stability, a mother figure. He paused, then added more quietly. And I’ve grown accustomed to having you around. Coming from the tacern cowboy, it was practically a declaration.

 Daisy felt her cheeks warm. It does make sense, she agreed carefully. For Hannah, neither mentioned what it might mean for them. This arrangement that had begun as temporary, but now stretched toward a future neither had imagined possible just weeks ago. We’d need money, Daisy said, shifting to practical matters. Traveling that far with a baby wouldn’t be easy or cheap.

Preston nodded. I have some saved from selling the ranch. Not a fortune, but enough to get us west and maybe buy a small piece of land. Somewhere remote enough to be safe, but not so isolated that Hannah grows up without seeing another soul. The plan took shape over the following days, becoming more concrete with each conversation.

 They would wait until spring when travel would be safer, then head west by stage coach as far as it would take them, and then by wagon if necessary. Preston knew a man in Timber Creek who might be willing to sell them a wagon and team without asking too many questions. As October gave way to November, the preparation for winter became more urgent.

 The first snow dusted the mountains visible from the cabin. A warning of what was to come. Preston, his arm healing well thanks to Daisy’s care, doubled his hunting efforts, bringing home deer and wild turkey that Daisy preserved for the months ahead. Working together, they transformed the simple cabin into a snug haven against the approaching winter.

 Daisy fashioned thicker curtains for the windows from fabric Preston had brought from town, while he reinforced the roof and walls against the weight of snow and force of wind they would soon face. Hannah thrived under their joint care, growing stronger each day. She began to pull herself up, determined to stand, and her babbling took on the rhythms of speech, even if the words weren’t yet formed.

 “Preston marveled at each new development, his love for his daughter evident in every gentle interaction.” “She has your stubbornness,” Daisy teased one evening as Hannah repeatedly tried and failed to grab a wooden spoon just out of her reach, refusing to give up despite multiple tumbles. Preston smiled, pride evident in his expression.

And your determination. Never seen a baby so set on getting what she wants. The casual comment linking Daisy to Hannah, as if they shared blood, caused a warmth to spread through Daisy’s chest. More and more, she found herself thinking of Hannah not as Preston’s child whom she was helping to care for, but as theirs in some indefinable way.

 And more and more she found herself watching Preston when he wasn’t aware the way his hands so large and capable could be infinitely gentle with Hannah. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. The way he hummed under his breath when he worked. Old trail songs he probably didn’t even realize he remembered.

 She wasn’t sure when exactly her feelings had shifted from cautious partnership to something deeper. But there was no denying it now. And sometimes when she caught Preston looking at her with that same unguarded expression, she wondered if perhaps he felt it, too. The first major snowfall came in late November, blanketing the world outside their cabin in pristine white.

 Hannah watched from Daisy’s arms at the window, her blue eyes wide with wonder at the transformation. Her first snow, Preston said, coming to stand beside them. At least the first she’s old enough to notice. It’s beautiful, Daisy murmured, her breath fogging the cold glass, like everything’s been made new.

 Preston’s hand came to rest lightly on her shoulder, the casual touch sending warmth through her despite the chill from the window. “That’s what I like about snow,” he said softly. “It covers everything, all the scars, all the ugly parts. Gives the world a clean slate.” Daisy turned to look at him, struck by the metaphor.

 “Is that what we’re looking for in California? A clean slate? Isn’t that what everyone wants? Eventually, Preston’s gaze was steady questioning. A chance to start over, to be judged for who you are now, not who you were or what you did in the past. Yes, Daisy whispered, thinking of all she’d left behind in St. Louis. The fear, the pain, the moment when the gun had gone off and changed everything.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Preston’s hand moved from her shoulder to gently touch Hannah’s cheek. The baby gurgled happily, reaching for her father’s finger. Then that’s what we’ll find for all of us. The snow continued for 3 days, effectively sealing them inside the cabin.

 They passed the time in domestic tranquility, Preston whittling toys for Hannah from scraps of wood. Daisy sewing baby clothes from the fabric he’d brought from town. In the evenings, they would sit by the fire and talk of the future, their plans growing more detailed with each conversation. There’s good farmland in the Sacramento Valley, Preston said one night.

 Or we could go further north into Oregon Territory. Land’s cheaper there, I hear. Daisy nodded, her needle flashing in the fire light as she worked on a tiny dress for Hannah. Either sounds wonderful, as long as it’s far from St. Louis and anyone who might recognize me, and far from Montana and any lawman looking for me, Preston added with a grim smile.

 On the fourth day, the snow stopped and the sun emerged, transforming the landscape into a dazzling expanse of white broken only by the dark shapes of pine trees. Preston announced he needed to check his traps and ensure the lean to where his horse was kept hadn’t been damaged by the weight of the snow.

 “I won’t be gone long,” he promised, pulling on his heavy coat and gloves just to the ridge and back. Daisy nodded, trying to ignore the flutter of anxiety she always felt when Preston left the cabin. Since the incident with the robbers, she couldn’t help but worry each time he ventured out alone. “Be careful,” she said as she always did. “Preston paused at the door, looking back at her with an expression that made her heart skip a beat.

” “Always am,” he replied softly. “Got too much to come back to now.” The simple statement, loaded with meaning, hung in the air between them for a moment before Preston turned and headed out into the snow. Daisy busied herself with household tasks, keeping Hannah entertained while watching out the window for Preston’s return.

 The baby was particularly fussy that day, perhaps sensing the tension in Daisy’s movements as the hours passed and Preston didn’t return. By late afternoon, with the sun already beginning its early winter descent, Daisy’s worry had grown into genuine fear, Preston knew these mountains, knew the dangers of being caught out after dark in the cold. He wouldn’t have stayed away this long unless something was wrong.

Just as she was considering her limited options, she couldn’t leave Hannah alone to search. But staying put might mean Preston froze to death if he was injured. Somewhere she heard the blessed sound of boots on the porch steps. Relief flooded through her as the door opened and Preston entered, stomping snow from his boots.

 Thank God, she breathed, moving quickly to help him remove his snowcovered coat. I was worried sick. What happened? Preston’s face was red from cold, but his eyes were bright with excitement. Found something? he said, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a small leather pouch, or rather found it again.

 Curious, Daisy watched as he untied the pouch and carefully emptied its contents onto the table. Gold small nuggets and flakes glinted in the cabin’s dim light. “Where did you get this?” she asked, stunned. “There’s a stream about a mile east of here,” Preston explained, removing his gloves to better handle the small treasure.

 Old Jim, the trapper who owned this cabin before me, showed it to me years ago. Said he’d been slowly collecting bits of gold from it for years, keeping it secret. When he died last winter, I forgot all about it until I was checking traps today and crossed the stream. Daisy picked up one of the larger nuggets, turning it in her fingers.

 This is real, actual gold. Preston nodded. Not a fortune, but there’s more in that stream. And with what I already saved, it could make the difference between just getting by in California and having a proper start. The implications dawned on Daisy slowly. We could leave sooner, not wait until spring. No. Preston shook his head.

 Winter travel is too dangerous, especially with Hannah. But come spring, well have more than enough for the journey and to buy good land when we arrive. His eyes met hers, filled with a hope she hadn’t seen before. We can have a real future, Daisy. Not just surviving, but living.

 The word we again spoken with such certainty, such promise. Daisy felt tears spring to her eyes. Preston, she began, but was interrupted by Hannah’s demanding cry from her cradle. The moment broken, they both turned their attention to the baby. Daisy lifted her, checking if she needed changing, while Preston carefully returned the gold to its pouch.

 That night, after Hannah was asleep, they sat closer than usual by the fire, the gold pouch resting on the table between them, a tangible symbol of possibilities. “I’ve been thinking,” Preston said slowly, his eyes on the flames rather than on Daisy.

 “About our arrangement when we get to California,” Daisy’s heart quickened. “Oh, for appearanc’s sake, it would make sense if,” he paused, seeming to search for words. That is, people might find it strange if we arrive together with a baby but aren’t married. Daisy supplied when he trailed off. Preston nodded, still not looking at her.

 It would be easier to explain and safer probably for all of us. Daisy studied his profile, trying to determine if this was merely a practical suggestion or something more. Are you proposing a marriage of convenience, Preston? Now he did look at her, his expression a complex mixture of emotions. “Would that be so terrible?” he asked quietly. “No,” Daisy answered honestly. “It wouldn’t be terrible at all,” she hesitated, then added.

 “But is that all it would be?” “Convenience,” the question hung between them, heavy with implication. “Preston set his coffee cup down carefully, then reached across the small space, separating them to take her hand in his.” Daisy,” he said, his voice low and serious. When you showed up at my door that day, I was just surviving, going through the motions for Hannah’s sake, but not really living.

 “You changed that. You made this place a home. You made us a family.” His grip on her hand tightened slightly. “So, no, it wouldn’t just be convenience. Not for me.” Daisy felt tears prick her eyes for the second time that day. “Not for me, either,” she whispered.

 Preston’s free hand came up to cup her cheek, his touch gentle as if she might break. “I know it hasn’t been long,” he said. “And I know we both carry wounds that aren’t fully healed, but I think I think we could be good together.” For Hannah, yes, but also for each other. It wasn’t the most romantic proposal, but to Daisy, who had learned the hard way that pretty words could hide ugly truths, Preston’s straightforward honesty was worth more than flowery declarations.

Yes, she said simply. I think we could be very good together. The kiss that followed was tentative at first, a careful exploration, then deeper as months of unspoken feelings finally found expression. When they pulled apart, both were slightly breathless, and Preston’s eyes held a warmth Daisy had glimpsed only in unguarded moments before.

 “So,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips were agreed. Come spring, we head to California as husband and wife. Agreed. Daisy nodded, her own smile reflecting his. Though perhaps we shouldn’t wait until California for the actual marriage part. Preston’s eyebrows rose. You want to get married here in Timber Creek.

 Is there a preacher there? There’s a circuit rider who comes through every few months. Might be there now, actually, since it’s nearly Christmas. Daisy hadn’t even realized how close the holiday was. the days having blended together in their isolated existence.

 Then yes, I’d like to be married properly before we leave for Hannah’s sake. And she hesitated, then continued, “And because I want to start our new life together the right way.” With nothing hidden, nothing to be ashamed of. Preston nodded, understanding in his eyes. “Then as soon as the weather allows, well go to town, all three of us.

” The weather did not allow for another two weeks, during which time their new understanding brought subtle but significant changes to their relationship. Preston’s customary reserve softened, and he began to share more of his thoughts and memories with Daisy. She in turn found herself speaking more freely of her past, the good and the bad, knowing now that she was accepted fully for who she was.

 They didn’t rush the physical aspect of their relationship. Both aware of the importance of building a foundation of trust first. But there were more touches, more moments of closeness. Preston’s hand at the small of Daisy’s back as they moved around the cabin. Daisy’s fingers lingering on his arm when she checked his healing wound.

 Shared smiles over Hannah’s head as they watched her attempts to stand and take her first steps. When the day finally came that the snow had packed down enough to make the journey to Timber Creek possible, they prepared with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Preston hitched his horse to a small sleigh he’d built years ago with old Jim, making sure there was plenty of room for Daisy and Hannah to sit comfortably wrapped in blankets against the cold.

“It’s about 3 hours to town,” he explained as he helped Daisy into the sleigh, Hannah securely bundled against her chest. We’ll stay overnight at the hotel and return tomorrow should be enough time to find the preacher and take care of things. Daisy nodded, understanding his caution.

 Despite their plans and the gold that would fund their fresh start, Preston was still technically a wanted man. They would need to be careful in town, avoiding too much attention or scrutiny. The journey was cold but beautiful, the snowcovered landscape pristine and silent except for the rhythmic jingle of the sleigh bells and the occasional call of a winter bird.

 Hannah, fascinated by the new sights and sounds, remained contentedly alert in Daisy’s arms, her blue eyes wide with wonder. Timber Creek proved to be even smaller than Daisy had imagined. A single street lined with basic establishments, general store, blacksmith, saloon, small hotel, and a modest church at the far end.

 Preston drove the sleigh directly to the hotel, helping Daisy and Hannah down before seeing to his horse. “Wait inside,” he instructed quietly. “I’ll handle the arrangements and ask about the preacher.” The hotel lobby was plain but clean, warmed by a large fireplace at one end. Daisy sat in a chair near the fire, Hannah on her lap, trying not to appear as nervous as she felt. This was the first time she’d been in a public place since fleeing St.

 Louis, and although the rational part of her knew no one here would recognize her, she couldn’t help but feel exposed. Preston returned shortly, his expression a mixture of relief and caution. got us a room for the night,” he said, sitting beside her and keeping his voice low. “And good news, the circuit preacher is in town, staying at the parsonage behind the church.

 He’s leaving tomorrow, so our timing couldn’t be better. You think he’ll agree to marry us on such short notice?” Daisy asked. Preston nodded. “Small towns like this, folks understand that distances and weather mean you take opportunities when they come.” I told the clerk we’d been snowed in at our homestead and had been waiting months for the preacher to come through.

He smiled slightly, not entirely a lie. They decided to visit the general store first to purchase a few items. They couldn’t make themselves a proper coat for Hannah, who was growing faster than expected, coffee beans, and if possible, a simple ring for the ceremony. Then they would call on the preacher to arrange the marriage.

 The store was busy with locals stocking up on supplies, and Daisy felt a moment of panic at being surrounded by so many strangers after months of isolation. Preston seemed to sense her discomfort, placing a reassuring hand at the small of her back as they made their way through the crowded space.

 They were examining children’s coats when a voice called out from behind them. “Tucker! Preston! Tucker, is that you?” Preston froze, his body tensing beside Daisy. Slowly, he turned to face the speaker. A tall man in a sheriff’s coat, gray-haired but fit, with a badge pinned to his chest. “Sheriff Miller,” Preston acknowledged with a nod, his voice carefully neutral. “Didn’t expect to see you here.

” “Could say the same,” the sheriff replied, his eyes moving from Preston to Daisy and Hannah, curiosity evident in his expression. “Heard you’d left these parts after.” He trailed off, apparently thinking better of mentioning Lily’s death in front of Daisy. “Been keeping to myself,” Preston said shortly. “This is Daisy Zimmer and Hannah.” The introduction offered no explanation of their relationship, and Daisy noticed Preston had positioned himself slightly in front of her, as if ready to shield her if necessary. The sheriff’s gaze lingered on Hannah, recognition dawning

in his eyes. Your little girl’s grown since I last saw her. Must be what, 6 months now? 8. Preston corrected. An awkward silence fell, broken only when Hannah reached toward a colorful display of ribbons, babbling excitedly. Daisy bounced her gently, trying to appear calm despite her racing heart.

 “Well,” Sheriff Miller said finally, “Good to see you’re doing all right, both of you.” His emphasis on the last words carried a weight of meaning Daisy couldn’t quite interpret. You staying in town long, just overnight, Preston replied. Need to see the preacher before he moves on. Understanding flickered across the sheriff’s weathered face. Ah, I see.

Well, don’t let me keep you from your shopping. He tipped his hat to Daisy. Madam, as the sheriff moved away, Daisy released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Is that going to be a problem? she whispered. Preston’s expression was unreadable. Not sure Miller and I go way back. He knew Lily. He shook his head slightly.

 Let’s finish up here and get to the preacher. The sooner we’re married and headed back to the cabin, the better I’ll feel. They completed their purchases quickly, including a simple gold band that cost more than Preston had expected, but that he insisted on buying despite Daisy’s protests.

 Then, with Hannah bundled in her new coat, they made their way to the small church at the end of the street. The preacher, a kind-faced man named Reverend Thomas, listened to their story with compassion, the abbreviated version that mentioned Preston’s widowed status, and Daisy as the neighbor who had helped care for Hannah, their growing affection and desire to marry before heading west for a fresh start.

 If he suspected there was more to their tale, he gave no indication, agreeing readily to perform the ceremony the following morning before his departure. As they walked back to the hotel, snow beginning to fall gently around them, Daisy felt a mixture of relief and anticipation. By this time tomorrow, she would be Mrs.

 Preston Tucker with all the protection and legitimacy that name would provide. More importantly, she would be bound to this man who had against all odds come to mean everything to her. “Are you having second thoughts?” Preston asked quietly as they entered their hotel room. A simple space with a bed, wash stand, and small table with two chairs.

 “No,” Daisy said firmly, settling Hannah on the bed where she immediately began to explore the unfamiliar surroundings. “Are you?” Preston shook his head, moving to stand before her. Not about marrying you, but I am worried about Sheriff Miller. He’s a good man, fair, but he’s also sharp. He’ll be wondering where I’ve been all these months and who you are.

 You think he knows about the warrant? Daisy asked, the fear she’d been suppressing all day, finally finding voice. If he does, he’d have said something. Duty would require it, even if we’re friends. Preston ran a hand through his hair, a gesture Daisy had come to recognize as a sign of his inner turmoil. But that doesn’t mean word won’t reach him eventually. We need to stick to our plan.

 Mary, tomorrow, return to the cabin and come spring, head west before anyone has a chance to look too closely at either of our stories. Daisy nodded, moving to take his hand in hers. One day at a time, she said softly. That’s how we’ve managed so far, and it’s worked pretty well, wouldn’t you say? A smile finally broke through Preston’s worried expression. Better than pretty well, he agreed, drawing her closer.

In fact, I’d say finding you on my doorstep that day might be the best thing that’s happened to me in a very long time. Even though I interrupted you cleaning your rifle, Daisy teased, remembering their first meeting, Preston’s smile widened. Especially because of that. If I hadn’t been sitting right there, rifle in hand, Hannah sleeping beside me, you might have kept on walking.

 And where would we be then? Lost,” Daisy whispered, resting her forehead against his chest. “Both of us.” Preston’s arms tightened around her, and for a moment they stood in perfect stillness, two souls who had found in each other a safe harbor after weathering separate storms.

 The moment was broken by Hannah’s demanding babble as she reached the edge of the bed, looking dangerously close to tumbling off. Both adults moved simultaneously to catch her, laughing as they collided in their haste, always keeping us on our toes, “Aren’t you little one?” Preston said, scooping his daughter up and tossing her gently in the air, eliciting delighted giggles.

 The evening passed peacefully, the three of them sharing a simple meal in their room rather than braving the more public dining area downstairs. Hannah, exhausted from the day’s excitement, fell asleep early, leaving Preston and Daisy to sit by the window, watching the snow fall on the quiet street below.

 “This time tomorrow, you’ll be my wife,” Preston said softly, his fingers intertwined with hers. Daisy smiled, the word filling her with a warmth that had nothing to do with the room’s small stove. “And you’ll be my husband. Never thought I’d want that again after Walter. I’ll never hurt you, Preston promised, his voice low but fierce. Never raise my hand to you, never make you afraid in your own home. I know, Daisy said simply because she did.

Preston Tucker was many things stubborn, reserved, sometimes too cautious, but violent, cruel, or manipulative he was not. In the months she’d known him, even in his darkest moments, he had never been anything but gentle with her and Hannah.

 They retired to bed early, Preston insisting on making a pallet for himself on the floor, despite Daisy’s protests that they would be married the next day anyway. “One more night of propriety won’t kill me,” he said with a smile. Though Daisy noticed he positioned himself between the door and the bed where she and Hannah slept, his rifle within easy reach the protector even now.

Morning brought clear skies and a fresh blanket of snow that transformed Timber Creek into something from a Christmas card. Daisy woke to find Preston already up, Hannah in his arms as he pointed out the window at the winter scene below. “Look, Hannah,” he was saying softly.

 “Snow! Can you say snow?” ” Ss,” Hannah attempted, more interested in grabbing her father’s beard than in the view outside. The domestic tableau brought tears to Daisy’s eyes. This was to be her family, not by blood or by the conventional paths that most women traveled, but by choice and circumstance, and yes, love. The ceremony itself was brief but meaningful.

 Reverend Thomas welcomed them into the small church, its simple wooden pews empty except for Hannah, who sat contentedly playing with a wooden toy Preston had carved for her. With only the reverend and the church caretaker as witnesses, Preston and Daisy exchanged vows and rings a proper band for her, and for him a simple leather cord Daisy had braided while he slept, to be replaced with gold when their circumstances allowed. “I, Preston, take you, Daisy, to be my lawfully wedded wife.

” Preston’s deep voice filled the small space, steady and sure. to have and to hold from this day forward. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part. As Daisy repeated the vows, her voice clear despite the emotion threatening to choke her, she marveled at how far she had come from the terrified woman who had fled St.

 Louis, with nothing but the clothes on her back and a desperate hope for survival. Now she had a husband who looked at her with such tenderness it made her heart ache, a daughter in all but blood who had claimed a piece of her soul, and a future that, while uncertain in its details, held promise rather than fear. “By the power vested in me by God in the territory of Montana, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Reverend Thomas declared with a warm smile. “You may kiss your bride, Mr. Tucker.

” Preston’s lips met hers in a kiss that was both gentle and firm. A promise, a declaration, a beginning. When they parted, his eyes held hers, communicating without words all that this moment meant to him. “Mrs. Tucker,” he said softly, testing the name, Daisy smiled, her heart full. “Mr. Tucker,” she replied, and was rewarded with a rare, full smile that transformed Preston’s usually serious face into something breathtaking. They spent a few more hours in town, purchasing final supplies for the journey back to the

cabin and the winter months ahead. If anyone noticed the new rings they wore, or the way they now moved together as a unit, Preston, Daisy and Hannah, no one commented directly, though Daisy caught more than one curious glance from the town’s people. As they were loading their purchases into the sleigh, Sheriff Miller approached them once more.

 Daisy felt pressed intense beside her, his hand instinctively moving to the small of her back. “Heard, “Congratulations are in order,” the sheriff said, nodding toward their rings. “Thank you,” Preston replied cautiously. Miller shifted his weight, seeming uncomfortable with what he was about to say.

 “Listen, Tucker, there’s something you should know. Had a rider come through from Helena last week, bringing news, official papers, that sort of thing.” He glanced around, ensuring they weren’t overheard. There was a notice about you, about those rustlers from last spring. Daisy’s heart sank, her hand finding Preston’s and squeezing tightly.

 This was at the moment they had feared. Discovery, arrest, separation. But to her surprise, Sheriff Miller continued, “Seems the judge’s cousins got caught trying the same thing over in Bosezeman. Only this time, the rancher they targeted was the governor’s brother-in-law.

 They confessed to a string of thefts, including at your place. He paused. “The warrants been withdrawn. You’re in the clear, Preston.” For a moment, Preston seemed unable to process the news. “What are you saying exactly?” he asked, his voice tight with controlled emotion. “I’m saying you don’t have to hide anymore,” Miller replied simply. “You and your family can come back to town, rebuild your life here if you want, or go west like you mentioned.

Either way, you’re a free man. The relief that washed over Preston’s face was profound. He swallowed hard, nodding his thanks to the sheriff. Appreciate you telling me, Miller. It’s It’s good to know. As the sheriff walked away, Preston turned to Daisy, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “Did you hear that?” he whispered. “It’s over. We don’t have to run anymore.” “At least one of us doesn’t.

” Daisy corrected gently, reality tempering her joy for Preston. “Walter’s brother is still looking for me. I’m sure of it. Preston’s expression sobered. You’re right. And until we know for certain that’s resolved, too, we’ll stick to our plan. California, a fresh start for all of us. He reached out to touch her cheek. But Daisy, don’t you see? This changes everything.

 We can travel openly now, take proper transportation. I can use my real name, access my bank account in Helina. We don’t have to skullk away like criminals. The significance of this new development slowly sank in. Their journey west would be safer, more comfortable, especially for Hannah. And once they arrived, Preston could purchase land legally in his own name without fear of discovery.

 Half of their burden had been lifted, and with it, new possibilities emerged. Perhaps someday they might even learn that Walter’s death had been ruled the accident it was, and the last shadow on their happiness would be lifted. But for now, it was enough that Preston was free, that they were legally married, and that Hannah would grow up with two parents who loved her and each other.

 The future stretched before them, no longer a desperate escape, but a road of their own choosing. As they settled into the sleigh for the journey back to the cabin, Hannah sleeping contentedly between them, Preston turned to Daisy with a smile that held all the hope and promise she had ever longed for. Ready to go home, Mrs. Tucker.

 Daisy looked at her husband and their daughter, feeling for the first time in years the certainty that wherever they were, as long as they were together, she would indeed be home. “Yes,” she said simply, returning his smile. I’m ready. The sleigh bells jingled as they set off through the snow. Three hearts beating as one toward the future they would build together. 5 years later, as the California sun bathed their small farmhouse in golden light, Daisy stood on the porch watching Preston teach Hannah how to ride her pony in the fenced paddock nearby.

At 7 years old, Hannah was the image of her father. Same determined jaw, same thoughtful blue eyes. Though Preston always insisted she had Lily’s smile beside Daisy in a handmade cradle, their three-month-old son James slept peacefully, his tiny fist curled around the edge of his blanket. Just beyond the porch, 2-year-old Elizabeth chased butterflies through Daisy’s flower garden, her blonde curls bouncing with each step. The years had been kind to them.

 Their journey west had been uneventful, almost easy compared to what they had anticipated. The gold from old Jim’s secret stream, combined with Preston’s savings, had allowed them to purchase a substantial plot of land in California’s Sacramento Valley. The soil was rich, the climate favorable, and over time they had built a thriving small farm that provided well for their growing family.

Word had eventually reached them through a carefully cultivated correspondence with Reverend Thomas that the investigation into Walter Zimmer’s death had indeed been closed, ruled an accident after a witness came forward confirming Daisy’s account of the struggle. She was officially as free as Preston.

Sometimes at night when the children were asleep and they sat on the porch watching the stars, Daisy and Preston would reflect on the unlikely path that had brought them together. A desperate woman fleeing for her life, stumbling upon a lonely cabin where a widowed father sat cleaning his rifle, his baby sleeping beside him.

 “It was fate,” Daisy would say, leaning her head against Preston’s shoulder. It was luck, he would counter, but his arm would tighten around her, and they both knew it was something more a second chance at happiness neither had expected, but both had seized with both hands. As Hannah successfully guided her pony around the paddock, Preston looked up, catching Daisy’s eye.

 The love that passed between them in that glance needed no words. It was as solid and real as the life they had built together. A love forged in shared hardship and mutual respect. Tempered by joy and strengthened by each passing day. Preston lifted Hannah from the pony and set her on his shoulders, heading toward the porch where Daisy waited with their younger children. This was their legacy.

 Daisy thought not the gold that had given them their start, nor the farm that provided their living, but the family they had created against all odds from the broken pieces of their separate lives. Mama, Hannah called, waving excitedly from her perch on Preston’s shoulders. Did you see? I rode all by myself, I saw.

 Daisy called back, smiling at the daughter of her heart. You were magnificent. As Preston approached with Hannah, Elizabeth abandoned her butterflies to run to her father, arms raised in a demand to be picked up, too. With practiced ease, Preston swung her up with his free arm, balancing a child on each side as he climbed the porch steps. “Quite a sight you make, Mr.

 Tucker,” Daisy teased, rising to meet him. “The most handsome pack mule in California,” Preston’s laugh, once so rare, now came easily. “And you, Mrs. Tucker, are the most beautiful mother of three this side of the Mississippi.” Their lips met in a brief sweet kiss, interrupted by Hannah’s giggle and Elizabeth’s attempt to join in with a wet smack to her father’s cheek.

 James stirred in his cradle, adding his voice to the family chorus. Later, when the children were asleep and the house was quiet, Preston and Daisy sat on the porch, swinging her head on his shoulder, his arm around her waist. “I was thinking about that day again,” Preston said softly. “The day you found us, mmmm,” Daisy murmured sleepily.

 What about it? I almost didn’t let you in, he admitted. Was this close to sending you back into that storm? Daisy lifted her head to look at him. What changed your mind? Preston smiled, the moonlight silvering his face. Hannah did. She’d been fussy all morning wouldn’t settle. But the moment you picked her up, she quieted right down. It was like she knew something I didn’t.

 That we belonged together, Daisy said softly. All of us. All of us. Preston echoed, drawing her closer as the night settled around their home, their sanctuary, the life they had built from chance and choice and love. And in that moment, under the vast California sky, Daisy knew with absolute certainty that the frightened woman who had fled.

 Louie would never have imagined this outcome, this happiness, this peace, this family that was hers in every way that mattered. But that woman had been brave enough to run, brave enough to knock on a stranger’s door during a storm, brave enough to trust when trust seemed foolish. And Preston, the grieving widowerower cleaning his rifle with his baby sleeping beside him, had been brave enough to open that door to let her in, to believe that a second chance at love was possible.

Together they had created something beautiful from the ashes of their past lives. A love story that hadn’t followed any conventional path, but was no less real, no less enduring for the obstacles it had overcome. As she drifted towards sleep in her husband’s arms, Daisy’s last thought was one of profound gratitude for the storm that had driven her to that cabin door, for the man who had opened it, and for the baby who had somehow known even then that they would become a family.