Chapter 7
Thomas pushed himself to his feet, though his ribs screamed at the movement.
The ice wouldn’t hold—not here, not with the break already spreading cracks through the surface like spider webs.
Kate still crouched in the snow beside him, her shoulders heaving with ragged breaths that sent white clouds into the swirling air.
“Can you stand?” He kept his voice level despite the way his side felt like someone had driven a knife between his ribs and twisted.
She nodded, though the movement looked more automatic than certain.
He gripped her elbow and helped her up, his fingers finding purchase through the thick wool of her coat. She swayed when she found her feet, and he steadied her with his other hand at her back. “We need to go upriver.”
She lifted her head, those hazel eyes finding his through the snow. For once, the suspicion had drained from her face, leaving only exhaustion and the remnants of terror. “Upriver?”
“Above the waterfall.” He released her arm but kept his hand hovering near her elbow in case she swayed again. “The ice should be solid there.”
Understanding flicked across her features. She glanced at the river—at the jagged break that had nearly swallowed the wagon—then nodded.
He glanced to the far side. The wagon had made it safely to the far bank, thank the Lord. The horses stood with their heads down, sides heaving, while Rose and Clara clustered near the wheels.
All safe. Everyone accounted for.
Except him and Kate, stranded on the wrong side of a river that had just proven itself deadly.
He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted across the ice. “James! We’re going upriver to cross.”
His brother’s response came faint through the wind, but the wave of acknowledgment was clear enough.
When he turned back to Kate, she was already stomping through the fresh powder along the bank. The wind whipped her cloak around her legs, but she pushed forward with her spine straight and her chin up.
He set out with large strides to catch up with her. The last thing he needed was to lose sight of her in this thick snowfall.
The woman had nearly watched her sister drown, had felt the ice give way beneath her own boots, and now she walked through a near-blizzard like it was just another inconvenience to endure.
The snow fell heavier with each step, coating his shoulders and hat until the weight of it dragged at his neck.
His boots sank into powder that came halfway up his shins in places, and each step pulled at muscles already protesting the fight in Butte and the fall on the ice.
Thick flakes clung to his eyelashes and melted on his cheeks.
The wind drove it sideways, stinging any exposed skin.
He tugged his hat lower and squinted to make sure they were tracking alongside the river.
The bank’s edge blurred into white nothingness beside him, the distinction between solid ground and open air nearly impossible to distinguish. He kept his focus split between that and Kate’s form on his other side—lose sight of either and they’d be in real trouble.
Kate stumbled. He caught her elbow before she could go down, his fingers tightening through the wool. She didn’t pull away this time, just nodded her thanks and kept moving.
He finally released her arm so they could both walk easier. The cold had worked its way through his coat and trousers, settling into his bones with teeth that gnawed deeper with each gust. His ribs felt like someone tightened a vise around them with every breath.
But at least he was moving. Stop now, and the cold would win.
The bank curved, and they followed it, keeping the darker shadow of the river’s edge on his right.
How long had they been walking? Five minutes? Ten? Time stretched and compressed in the storm until he couldn’t be sure of anything except the burn in his lungs and the way each breath sent ice down his throat.
A figure rose through the swirling snow. White and tall—twice his height. Or more.
The waterfall.
The frozen cascade rose ahead, massive and otherworldly through the swirling white. No water moved behind it—the cold had locked it solid. The wind shrieked around the formation, finding every gap in the ice fingers to strengthen its fury.
He pushed toward the figure. He’d planned to trek up the slope to the river above the falls to find a crossing.
But maybe first they could rest behind it.
In that hollow space where the water had carved the rock smooth over centuries, they’d have shelter from the wind.
After that, could they cross to the other side behind the falls?
He’d never checked to see if there was a passage all the way through.
He moved toward it, his boots punching through snow that had drifted against the base. Kate followed without question—she’d probably spotted the shelter potential too.
Smart woman. Prickly as a cactus, but smart.
He needed to check the space first—see if the shallow cave was safe to enter before he brought Kate into a potential trap. It might be too icy, or mayhap another creature had taken shelter there.
“Wait here.” He had to shout to be heard over the wind’s howl.
Kate turned her face toward him, snow clinging to her eyelashes and the loose strands of hair that had escaped her scarf. She looked like she might argue, but instead gave a sharp nod.
He turned to the falls, the formation rising like something from a dream—ice columns as thick as tree trunks, frozen spray fanning out in delicate sheets that caught what little light filtered through the storm. Beautiful, if he had time to appreciate it. But he didn’t have energy to spare.
Ice even coated the ground where mist must have settled before the cold locked it solid. His boots found purchase on the slick surface, though each step required care.
The wind bit through his coat as he inched closer to the frozen cascade. His hand found the ice, solid beneath his glove, and he used it to steady himself as he worked his way around the formation’s edge.
The hollow opened up behind the falls—deeper than he’d remembered. Maybe ten feet deep and tall enough to stand without hunching. Barely.
The roar of wind dropped to a muted howl, and the sudden loss made his ears ring. The ice covering the opening shone a translucent blue-white where the light filtered through.
He tested the ground with his boot. Slick, but manageable if they moved carefully. The back wall curved smooth where water had carved it over the years, and the space smelled of wet stone and cold—sharp and clean after the journey through the storm.
No animals. No dangerous ice waiting to break loose and crush them. Just shelter.
He let out a cloudy breath. The air even felt warmer here, protected from the wind’s teeth. Not warm—nothing about this day could be considered warm—but the difference was enough that his face stopped burning.
He worked his way around the falls to where Kate waited. She’d turned her back to the wind, her shoulders hunched against the driving snow. When he touched her arm, she startled, spinning to him with wide eyes.
“It’s safe.” He had to lean close to be heard. “Come on.”
He reached out a hand, and she took it without hesitation.
Her fingers closed around his—cold even through their gloves—and he led her around the edge of the falls. The ice beneath their boots required every bit of his attention, each step deliberate as they inched along the formation’s spiky edge.
The hollow opened before them, and Kate’s grip tightened on his hand as she took in the space. The wind’s howl dropped to something almost peaceful, and the sudden quiet made the pounding of his pulse loud in his ears.
The cold followed them in, but without the wind, it felt almost manageable.
Almost.
He released her hand once they’d cleared the entrance, giving her room to move deeper into the shelter. She took three careful steps, then stopped, her gaze lifting to the ice masterpiece over the opening.
“We can rest here.” He could talk easier now without shouting over the storm. “Wait for the snow to ease.”
She turned to look at him, snowmelt already tracking down her face from where the flakes had accumulated. “How long?”
How long would a blizzard last? He’d seen storms blow through in an hour, and others that buried the ranch for three days straight.
No way to know which kind this was. Reading weather in the mountains was like trying to predict which way a spooked horse would bolt—sometimes you guessed right, sometimes you ended up in the dirt.
“I don’t know.” He pulled off his hat and knocked the snow from it, though more would pile up the moment he stepped back outside. “But we can’t cross until we can see better. Could be an hour. Could be longer.”
Her jaw tightened—just a hair, but he caught it. The woman probably wanted certainty the same way he wanted his ribs to stop screaming with every breath. Neither of them would get what they wanted today.
She turned away, moving deeper into the hollow. Her boots scraped against the ice-slicked stone, the sound echoing off the frozen walls. When she reached the back, she pressed one gloved hand against the rock face, her shoulders rising and falling with a breath that looked like it took effort.
He should say something. Offer reassurance or distraction or whatever people could give in situations like this. But his mind was as frozen as the water at his back, and the cold gnawed deeper with each passing moment.
James would take care of Clara and Rose. His brother had proven himself capable in worse situations than a broken river crossing. They’d probably go on to the Walton farm, about a quarter hour’s ride past the river. Or wait it out in the wagon with blankets and the supplies.
Either way, Clara McKinney wouldn’t freeze today.
But standing here in this ice cave with Kate—this was a different problem entirely.
The cold bit deeper now that they’d stopped moving. His fingers had gone numb inside his gloves, and his toes felt like blocks of ice jammed into his boots.
He needed to do something. Standing here like a useless lump while the cold worked its way deeper wouldn’t help either of them.
He scanned the hollow’s depths for anything that might help them survive however long this storm trapped them here. The back corners lay in shadow where the light filtering through the ice couldn’t reach.
He moved toward one back corner, his boots scraping over stone. Something dark showed against the gray rock—debris of some kind. He crouched, ignoring the protest from his ribs, and fingered sticks. A small pile of them, twisted and weathered, some no thicker than his thumb.
Wind must have blown them in during warmer months. Or maybe some animal had dragged them here to build a nest.
He gathered a large handful, testing each piece. Most felt dry despite the dampness of the cave. Brittle enough to snap between his fingers. Good kindling, but they’d burn fast—maybe fifteen minutes if he was lucky.
“What are you doing?” Kate’s voice carried from where she still stood at the back wall.
“Found some wood.” He moved to the other corner where another small cache lay. More sticks, these longer but just as thin. He added them to his collection. “Going to try to get a fire started.”
“You have a way to light it?”
He reached into his coat pocket. His benumbed fingers could barely feel the small tin case he kept there. The tinder box was old—a gift his father had sent for his thirteenth birthday—a reminder of the man he’d never really known. But the tin had proven useful countless times over the years.
He pried open the lid with stiff fingers. The char cloth he’d replenished in Butte looked intact, protected from moisture by the sealed container. He had flint and steel too, though striking a spark with frozen hands would test his patience.
He carried the tin to the center of the hollow where the ground leveled out, then arranged the thinnest pieces of wood into a small pile. His hands shook as he worked—whether from cold or exhaustion, he couldn’t tell anymore. Probably both.
Before he lit the fire though, he needed to find more wood. Anything that came from outside this cave would likely be wet, and his only chance to get it to light would be for the wood to be exposed to the heat while this dry kindling burned.
He worked himself back up to his feet, the movement sending fresh fire through his ribs, and turned to the entrance. The wind’s howl promised misery the moment he stepped back into it. But they needed fuel if they were to survive this blizzard without losing toes or fingers.
“I’m going to look for more wood.” He stepped toward the opening, already dreading the bite of wind against his face.
“I’ll come with you.” Kate’s voice stopped him.
He glanced back. She’d moved away from the wall, her posture rigid despite the exhaustion that showed in every line of her face. Snow still clung to her hair where it had escaped her scarf, and her lips had taken on a bluish tinge that made his chest tighten.
He shook his head. “Stay here out of the wind. I’ll be back soon.” Then he ducked out of the shelter before she could speak again.