Jared rode in silence for several paces, as though thinking it over. At last he nodded. “Me, too.”
Her spirits lifted on hearing that declaration, and she nudged Patches a little closer. The black stretched his neck around and nipped at the gelding. Patches squealed and hopped to the side.
“You all right?” Jared stopped the stallion and watched her bring her mount under control.
“I’m fine. I just expected Chief to have more manners, I guess.”
“He’s still young. I’ve been working with him, but you know stallions are unpredictable.”
She nodded. “You’re right. I know better. We’ll keep our distance. It’s just so good to have you close at hand again. I’ve missed you terribly. Uncle Rupert, too, but especially you, Jared.”
He looked off at the hills in the distance. “I thought about you some, too.”
“If only Uncle Bill hadn’t gotten so mad at your father.”
“Well, he did.” Jared sighed. “Pa was angry, too. And too stubborn to give in. So he up and moved us to Texas.”
“Yeah.” Patricia brushed a light coating of snow from Patches’s mane. “Uncle Bill missed Rupert, but he won’t admit it. For years he’s complained about how he took the best horses with him when he left.”
“Well, your uncle got the ranch. It was only fair for Pa to get a string of mares to go with the stallion he captured.”
“I guess so.” She sighed. “I always felt as though that fight tore our family apart. You and your dad were part of the family, as far as I was concerned.”
“Yeah. Dad and Bill were like brothers.” Jared turned and looked into her eyes. “I’ll tell you something.”
“What?”
“I believe this horse is a peace offering.”
Patricia caught her breath. “You mean … Uncle Rupert sent that stallion to Uncle Bill?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s wonderful.”
Jared pressed his lips tight together and stared straight ahead. He didn’t speak for a long time. The snow grew deeper, and Patches stumbled. Patricia let him fall back behind the black and walk in Chief’s footsteps. The snow pelted down in small, dry flakes now. She hoped the squall didn’t last long. She couldn’t see nearly as far ahead as she could when they headed out of town.
She could see Jared’s ramrod-straight back, however. He’d always been a pensive boy, but now he seemed even more serious. Had he changed so very much? Surely he still had the same tender heart he’d had when he helped her rescue a motherless ground squirrel. Of course he’d grown up. But still … She didn’t like the thought that her old, childish love for Jared still colored her reactions to him. Better keep a checkrein on those meandering thoughts.
Chapter 3
Patricia hadn’t paid attention. The snow was deeper, and the path of the roadway was obscured now. Jared must be navigating by dead reckoning and what few landmarks he could see. The young stallion floundered into a drift and whinnied shrilly. Jared pulled Chief’s head around, forcing him to move his front feet to the side.
“Easy, now. Get up, you.”
Patricia’s throat constricted as she watched. There was nothing she could do to help him. The black horse pawed at the ground for a moment, and she realized they had strayed off the roadbed and into a low spot.
In an instant, the black found his footing and leaped onto solid ground again. Patricia exhaled and rode up on the other side of the stallion.
“Are you all right?” she called.
“Yes, but Chief’s getting tired.”
She looked about, but the driving snow made it difficult for her to orient herself.
“Stay close to me,” Jared said, “but not so close that you follow me into a hole like that.”
“I will.” If Jared were traveling alone, would he have reached the ranch by now? She felt like apologizing for begging him to bring her, but that wouldn’t do any good now. She pulled Patches in behind Chief and tugged her scarf up over the lower part of her face.
The young stallion moved slowly, head down, putting one foot in front of the other. Jared looked back. Tricia and Patches had fallen behind, and he could barely make out the horse’s bulk as he plodded along.
“Whoa.” Chief stopped and gave a big sigh. Jared turned him so his tail was to the wind and waited.
Patches trudged slowly up to him and stopped. Patricia’s muffled form was covered in snow. She raised a gloved hand and brushed the loose, white coating from the scarf that covered her mouth.
“I’m sorry, Jared. I promised I wouldn’t slow you down.”
“It’s not your fault. But this storm isn’t going to let up. I think it’s time we admitted that and looked for a house where we can stop.”
Her shoulders straightened. “I can keep on if you can.”
Stubborn, as always. His attempted smile cracked his bottom lip, and he winced. “Trisha, I was wrong to set out when I did, with or without you. I’m sorry I led you into this.”
She eyed him for a moment then ducked her head. “I put you on the spot. That was really low of me. If you think it’s best to find shelter …”
He thought she sounded relieved. “I do. We’ve been riding for more than two hours, but I don’t think we’re more than halfway to the ranch.”
Her blue eyes flared for a moment. “I guess we could be in serious trouble if one of these horses plays out on us.”
Jared nodded. “Let’s stick close together. I think there’s a fencerow off that way.” He pointed to the left, where he’d been watching an erratic ripple in the snow a few yards away, but it was becoming less distinct every minute. “We can’t be far from a house.”
He turned Chief into the wind again and set out. The snow was up to the young stallion’s knees, making progress difficult.
At this rate, night could overtake them. He scoured the landscape for a building, but he couldn’t see more than a few yards in any direction. His ears ached with cold, and his toes were starting to go numb. Lord, we need some help here. Please guide us to shelter.
After what seemed like a long time, he heard Patricia call out behind him, and again he stopped and turned his horse to face hers. Patricia urged Patches up close to Chief and pushed her scarf away from her mouth.
“Are you sure we’re still on the road? Whenever we drive to town, we pass several ranches between Uncle Bill’s and Colorado Springs.”
He gritted his teeth. No use glossing over it. “I’m pretty sure we’ve lost the trail, Trisha.”
She nodded. They sat in silence for a long moment. The wind howled around them, blowing clouds of snow about the horses’ still forms.
“What should we do?” Patricia had to yell to be heard above the wind.
“We’ll have to keep going in as straight a line as we can and pray for a place to take shelter.”
“All right.”
He hesitated, knowing she and Patches were both exhausted. Chief had stumbled several times, and if they got into a deep drift, he would be too tired to fight his way out this time. But what else could they do? He sent up another silent prayer and turned his horse toward what he figured was northwest.
Patricia’s fingers and toes were numb. They’d been plodding along for what seemed like hours, but she couldn’t tell if they were making any progress. They might be heading away from the ranch, for all she knew. At least the ground was fairly flat, but the horses had reached a dangerous level of fatigue. The gelding stumbled again, and she spoke to him, stroking his neck and giving him a minute to rest. When she looked up, she could barely make out the hindquarters of Jared’s horse. She hated to push Patches any farther, but she knew she’d be left behind, alone in the blizzard, if she didn’t.
“Up, boy. Come on. Just a little farther.”
Patches lifted his right foreleg and pushed forward two steps then stopped again. Patricia’s chest tightened.
“Jared!”
At first she thought he hadn’t heard her, but slowly
his horse turned and came back toward her.
“Patches is about done in,” she yelled.
Jared looked around and waved at something off to her right. Patricia squinted and made out a small stand of pine trees. The stunted pines might offer slight shelter from the wind.
Patches floundered into deeper snow, and she sat still, speaking gently to calm him. Once he stopped thrashing, she stroked his neck and squeezed him with her legs.
“Come on, fella. See those trees? That’s where we’re going. You can do it.” She urged him on in the messy path Chief had broken. Patches bunched his muscles and leaped forward. In just a few strides, they were among the trees.
Jared dismounted and let Chief’s reins trail. The colt immediately lowered his head and turned his hindquarters to the wind. Patricia started to swing her leg over the saddle and realized how stiff and cold she was. Jared shuffled to her side and held up his arms. She slid down Patches’s side, glad to have Jared steady her when she landed.
“I’ve got a tinderbox in my saddlebag,” he said, close to her ear. “Help me break some small twigs off the low branches. We might be able to get a fire going.”
Twenty minutes later, Patricia sat in relative comfort with her hands and feet extended toward the small blaze he had kindled. They had stomped the snow down in a circle around the fire, giving them a recess where they could huddle mostly out of the wind.
Jared waded back to the hollow with an armful of small pine branches. “These won’t burn for long, but they’ll get us warmed up,” he said.
Patricia noticed that he didn’t have to shout. The wind had eased, and the snowfall seemed lighter. She pulled her scarf away from her face.
“Any idea what time it is?” she asked.
He shrugged and glanced toward the sky. “Hard to say, but I’m hungry.”
She smiled. “I hadn’t honestly thought about it, but I am, too.”
“I’ve got some coffee. Maybe we can keep this fire going long enough to melt snow and make a pot. We’d both feel better, I’m sure.”
“Let me help.” She started to rise, but he placed a hand on her shoulder.
“No, you stay there. Take your boots off and get your feet good and warm.”
“Well, I …” She gazed up at him, certain she’d be blushing if she wasn’t so chilled.
“Do it.” He turned away to where the horses stood nose-to-tail, offering each other some body heat.
As he filled his small coffeepot with snow and worked to position it over the coals without putting the small fire out, Jared considered their options. They could hole up right here with the possibility of freezing to death—the limited supply of small branches dry enough to break off and burn wouldn’t last through the night—or go on. He didn’t really like that alternative any better. The horses were near exhaustion. It might be better to stop here than to ask more of them. If one of them went down out in the open, they would have small chance of survival.
Patricia seemed embarrassed at his suggestion that she remove her boots, but that was of little consequence. Jared was beginning to fear he had brought her into mortal danger. He returned to Chief’s side and took his small sack of coffee from the saddlebag. He didn’t dare unsaddle the horses. There was no place to stow the saddles, and he didn’t want to put them down in the snow. Besides, resaddling them would involve working the stiff leather straps. The weather would not be generous.
He removed his gloves and warmed his hands over the flames for a minute before removing the lid to the coffeepot. The snow was melted, but now the pot was only a third full. He pulled on his gloves and scooped up more snow to add to it. They’d been stopped at least half an hour before he had a passable brew.
“Drink this.” He handed Trisha his tin cup, half full of murky liquid.
“You go ahead,” she said, arranging her skirt hem carefully.
He almost laughed. Was she still worried about showing off her ankles? “Drink it.” The words came out gruffly, and he immediately regretted it.
She reached out and took the cup meekly. Jared smiled grimly to himself. Maybe he’d hit the right tone, after all. Her stubbornness and defiance seemed to have vanished.
“Listen, Trisha, I’m wondering if we should stay right here for the night and heap up the snow for shelter.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Stay here all night?”
He nodded.
“Do you think …” She looked around. “Jared, we wouldn’t be able to get enough wood to burn all night, would we? If we had a hatchet …”
A small stick of burning wood fell and rolled to the edge of the fire, and he edged it back in with the toe of his boot.
“You’re right, but if we made a snow cave, it would protect us some. We could survive the night.”
He could see the fear now. She stared at him for a long time. At last she squeaked out, “But what about the horses?”
He sighed. They might live through a night in this storm, but he doubted it.
Trisha rose to her knees and passed him the empty cup. “Jared, I’m ready to go on whenever you are. I don’t think we should dig in here. It might mean our deaths, and Patches’s and Chief’s, too.”
He took his time pouring his coffee then returned her gaze. “I can’t guarantee getting us through, and once we leave these trees, we’re in the open. We might not find another place to stay—or make camp—before dark.”
She swallowed hard and looked up at him with those huge blue eyes. “I’ll do whatever you think is best, but …”
“But what?”
“I think we should try. The storm seems to have slacked a little, and we might be just yards from a house.”
He sipped the coffee. Grounds floated in it, but he swallowed them down. “All right. But if you’ve got extra clothing in your bag, I want you to put it on. Extra stockings, another dress, anything you’ve got that you can layer.”
He trudged through the loose snow again to the horses. He had to remove his gloves, and even then he couldn’t work free the leather thongs that tied her bag behind the saddle. After a few fruitless minutes, his fingers were numb again. He pulled out his knife and sliced the thongs.
“Here.” He dropped the bag beside her and went to the other side of the fire to warm his hands. “I mean it, Trish. Put on every stitch you can. If I had an extra pair of trousers along, I’d give them to you.”
Her lips twitched, and she cleared her throat. “Can you, uh …”
He realized she wanted him to turn his back. “Yeah, I was going to try to get some more wood, anyway.” He pulled on his stiff gloves and waded toward the few trees he hadn’t already stripped of dry branches.
When he returned a few minutes later, she had pulled a fancy blue dress on over her wool traveling skirt. She looked funny with the shiny material showing below her coat. The skirts stood out around her, giving her a pouffy, round form. Must have added a petticoat or two.
“Do you have any extra clothing?” Trisha asked as he dumped his scant load of branches on the fire.
“Just a shirt, but I have a blanket I can wrap around me. He squinted up at the sky. “It’s let up some.” He could see a lighter streak in the clouds where the sun was lowering in the west.
He shook out his blanket and draped it over Chief’s saddle, then turned to give Trisha a boost. When he mounted the young stallion, he took his bearings and made his best guess as to the direction of the ranch.
“All set?”
“Sure am.” Trisha smiled, and his heart lurched. He had to have been crazy to bring her out here. How could he face Bill Logan if anything happened to her? He clucked to Chief and squeezed the horse’s ribs with his legs. The black snorted and set out with his head low.
An hour later the light was nearly gone. The storm lashed out with new fury, throwing grainy snow in their faces. Jared no longer expected to find shelter. Only a tiny part of him cared. Chief’s steps had slowed to a crawl. Jared reminded himself of Patricia and slowly swiveled t
o look behind him. He couldn’t see her. Any part of him that wasn’t numb ached. He couldn’t feel his fingers or feet.
“Trisha?”
Out of the swirling snow in the blackness, something moved toward him. He realized it was Patches, with an inch of snow piled on his head and neck. Jared made out Trisha’s bulky form on the gelding’s back.
Her dull eyes peered at him from between the snow-caked folds of her scarf.
There was nothing to say. He turned forward and squeezed Chief’s sides. The colt took a step then stopped. Jared squeezed harder but got no response. He kicked his mount, but Chief only drooped his head lower. Vapor rose from the horse’s breath.
Jared stared ahead of him. Something about the snow had caught his eye. Just beyond Chief’s nose, stretched out but covered in a thick layer of ice and snow, was a strand of what could only be barbed wire.
He stared at it stupidly for a long moment then slowly wormed around in his saddle. Patches was right on Chief’s haunches.
“Trisha!”
She raised her chin and met his gaze.
“We’ve hit a fence.”
Chapter 4
Patricia leaned forward in the saddle and raised her right leg behind her. Her thigh muscles screamed, and her leg seemed outrageously heavy. With a jerk, she got it above the saddle and pulled it over to the near side. She kicked loose from the stirrup and slid to the ground.
The soft snow engulfed her, and she sank to her knees, with her skirts spreading out around her.
“Are you all right?” Jared sounded more alert now, which was probably good. He stirred in his saddle.
“Yes,” she said. “Don’t get down. This is awful.”
She grabbed Patches’s mane and pulled herself forward, propelling one leg at a time in agonizing slowness. She reached the fence line and knocked the snow off with her hand. Her gloves were caked and stiff with it, but she was able to uncover a couple of the barbs that were spaced along the wire. In the twilight, she bowed to peer at them.
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