Gwendolyn"S Choice
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 3
When Ethan woke at first light, Gwen was already awake.
She sat by the creek with her knees drawn to her chest, watching the water move around the stones. She hadn’t run. She hadn’t tried to slip away in the darkness.
She’d stayed.
Ethan didn’t make a show of noticing. He just went about breaking camp—rolling up bedrolls, dousing the fire, readying the horses. He kept his movements quiet, giving her space to think.
When he finally approached, leading the horses, she stood and brushed the dust from her torn dress.
“I didn’t run,” she said. Her voice held a strange mix of defiance and uncertainty.
“I noticed.”
“Don’t read nothin’ into it.”
“I won’t.”
But something had shifted between them, and they both knew it.
They climbed onto the wagon and rode in silence as the sun climbed higher. The land around them changed gradually—from rugged canyon pathways to rolling grassland stretching toward distant mountains. The air smelled cleaner here, touched with pine from the high country.
Around midday, a cluster of buildings appeared in the distance.
A tall barn, weathered gray by sun and wind. A log house with a wide porch. Corrals spreading out behind, and beyond that, pastureland dotted with cattle.
The Matthews spread.
Gwen slowed, her shoulders tensing. Her breath caught in her throat.
“You got a problem with ranches?” Ethan asked gently.
“I ain’t been around people much,” she said. “Not real ones. Not decent ones.”
“Well,” Ethan said, “we ain’t perfect. But we try.”
As they rolled into the yard, two men stepped out from the barn. One was thick-shouldered with sharp eyes and a weathered face—Tom. The other was younger, barely past boyhood but strong as a young bull—Jesse.
Tom wiped his hands on his vest and squinted at the wagon. “Boss, you’re back early.” His gaze slid to Gwen. He frowned. “And you brought company.”
Ethan set the brake and climbed down. “This is Gwen. She’ll be staying here.”
Tom’s eyebrows shot up. “You sure about that?”
Gwen stiffened instantly. Her hand twitched toward a knife she didn’t have. She expected the insult, the threat, the shove-away.
Ethan stepped between them, his voice calm but final. “I’m sure.”
Tom opened his mouth, caught the look in Ethan’s eye, and shut it fast.
Jesse just stared, wide-eyed and uncertain.
Ethan turned to Gwen and gestured toward the house. “Come on.”
She hesitated, glancing back at Tom and Jesse like she was calculating how fast she could run if she needed to.
“They won’t bother you,” Ethan said quietly. “And if they do, they answer to me.”
She followed him, but kept distance, her body coiled and ready.
Inside, the house smelled like coffee and wood smoke and leather. It was clean but lived in—a working man’s home. The main room had a stone fireplace, a worn sofa, and a large wooden table with chairs.
Gwen stood just inside the doorway, not moving farther in. Her eyes darted around, cataloging exits, looking for threats.
Ethan moved to the kitchen area and started pulling out supplies. “You need food. And those wrists need tending.”
She pulled her arms close. “I don’t need help.”
“Didn’t say you did. I said you deserve it.”
Her jaw tightened. She didn’t know what to do with that.
Ethan set a pot on the stove and began preparing a meal—something simple but substantial. Gwen watched him from the doorway, silent and wary.
When the food was ready, Ethan set two plates on the table.
Gwen didn’t move.
“I’ll eat outside,” she said.
Ethan looked at her. “Let’s go into the house and eat proper. You ain’t no animal.”
The words hit her like a blow. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Her eyes flashed with something—anger, maybe, or shame, or confusion.
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