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He Saved a Wounded Man Then Was Ordered to Marry His Daughter

Chapter 2

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Ethan stopped, taking a slow step back, his hands held open at his sides, palms facing forward. "I'm trying to help him," Ethan said, his voice low and steady. "I found him half-buried in a drift two miles back. He's bleeding, and he's half-frozen."The woman did not lower the rifle. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes moved slowly from Ethan's face to the unconscious rider draped over the saddle horn.As her eyes caught the bronze features of the young man and the braided sinew in his dark hair, her breath caught sharply in her throat. The cold, impenetrable barrier in her eyes shattered into a look of raw, agonizing recognition.She lowered the heavy steel barrel an inch, her fingers tightening around the wooden stock. "Kip," she whispered, her voice cracking against the cold wind. "He is my brother.""He's lost a lot of blood," Ethan said gently. "If we don't get him to a fire soon, he won't make the night."She did not waste time with tears or questions. She swung the rifle behind her back by its leather strap, stepped forward, and took the bay gelding's lead rope from Ethan's hand."My name is Aiyana," she said, looking Ethan squarely in the eyes for a single, searching second. "Follow me. And keep your hands away from your belt."She turned and led the horse through the thick willow brush, her stride fast and purposeful. Ethan followed three paces behind, his eyes fixed on the trail ahead, feeling the weight of the wilderness pressing down around them.Within five minutes, the willow brush opened into a sheltered amphitheater beneath the granite cliffs of the northern ridge. A dozen canvas tents and heavy timber wickiups sat nestled against the rock face, protected from the worst of the mountain gale. Thin ribbons of blue woodsmoke rose from the central fire pits, filling the cold air with the smell of burning cedar and roasted meat.As Aiyana led the horse into the center of the clearing, the camp came to a complete halt.Women carrying wooden water buckets froze in their tracks. Old men sitting beside the hearths stood up, pulling their wool blankets tight around their shoulders. Children playing in the drifts vanished behind their mothers' skirts.Every pair of eyes in the camp locked onto Ethan Cole—a broad, unknown white man walking into their sanctuary leading a horse carrying their chief's wounded son.They did not shout. They did not raise weapons. They simply watched in a thick, suffocating silence that felt heavier than the mountain snow.Ethan expected gratitude, or at least a brief acknowledgment of the effort it had taken to haul a heavy man two miles through deep drifts. Instead, he felt a cold, prickling unease settle between his shoulder blades.Aiyana called out three sharp words in her native tongue, and instantly four young men ran forward to lift the unconscious rider from the saddle. They carried him quickly into the largest timber structure at the base of the cliff—the lodge of the band’s head elder.Aiyana looked back at Ethan, her face an unreadable mask once more. "Bring your horse," she said flatly. "The elder wishes to see the man who found my brother."

The interior of the elder’s lodge was warm and dry, smelling of pine resin, sweetgrass, and old leather. A large stone fire pit burned in the center of the room, casting a warm, flickering orange light across the heavy timber walls and hand-woven wool blankets.On a bed of soft deer hides near the fire lay Kip, Aiyana's brother.An old woman with white braids and deep lines carved into her bronze face was already at work, her hands moving with practiced speed as she sliced away the blood-soaked leather of the young man's coat. Aiyana knelt beside her, holding a wooden bowl of warm water and clean linen rags.
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He Saved a Wounded Man Then Was Ordered to Marry His Daughter

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