Chapter 19 #2
Enoch was already moving toward the door, Thomas and Robert close behind. Kate followed them all into the great room, then slipped outside with them.
The cold air sliced through her, and she wrapped her arms around herself. She should have grabbed her coat.
A brown mare stood heaving in the yard, sides lathered white despite the chill. Mary Jenkins sat slumped in the saddle, exhaustion etched into every line of her young face. She clutched a bundle against her chest—the baby, wrapped in what looked like every blanket they owned.
“Mrs. Jenkins.” Enoch reached the horse first, his hand steadying the mare’s bridle. “What’s happened?”
“Samuel.” Mary’s voice cracked. “There’s been an avalanche. The cattle—they’re trapped in the canyon.”
Thomas moved to her side, reaching up to help her down. “Easy now. Take a breath.”
But Mrs. Jenkins was already sliding from the saddle, clutching her baby tightly as her boots hit the snow. “Samuel’s watching them, but there’s nothing he can do. They’re trapped, and there’s another storm coming, and we can’t—we don’t—”
A hearty wail loosed from the babe, muffled by the pile of blankets.
Rose was there in an instant, wrapping her arm around the younger woman’s shoulders. “Come inside and get warm. Tell us everything.”
The next few minutes were a blur of motion.
Rose guided Mrs. Jenkins to a chair by the fire.
Bea pressed a cup of hot tea into her trembling hands.
Mandie took the baby—a round-cheeked infant with dark eyes and a surprisingly powerful wail—and began walking the room, bouncing gently until the crying subsided.
Kate hung back with Clara. Everyone seemed to know what to do in this crisis. What more was needed?
“Start from the beginning.” Enoch perched on a chair near the woman. “What happened?”
Mrs. Jenkins drew a shaky breath. “We wintered the herd in Coldwater Canyon, like always. The shelter’s good there, and the spring doesn’t freeze.
Except the grass has been eaten for days, and Samuel was planning to move them.
Then two days ago, that warming spell started, and then—” She broke off, swallowing hard.
“Yesterday morning, the whole north slope came down. Blocked the canyon entrance. Twenty feet of snow and rock and broken trees.”
Kate drew a sharp breath. Twenty feet.
“Samuel tried to dig through.” Mrs. Jenkins curled in around her teacup.
“Worked all day and barely made a dent. And the cattle—” Her voice wavered.
“They’re still alive, we can hear them, but they’re trapped on the other side with no food and barely any water.
If we can’t get them out before the next storm hits. ..”
She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to.
“How many head?” James asked.
“Eighteen. It’s everything we have.”
The weight of that settled over the room. Kate didn’t know much about ranching, but she understood enough. Eighteen cattle might not sound like many compared to the Balfour herds, but for a young couple just starting out, it must be everything. Their entire future, trapped behind a wall of snow.
The brothers exchanged glances. Communicating in that wordless way siblings did—the way she and Clara could.
“We’ll need shovels,” Enoch said finally. “Picks. The draft horses might be able to help move the larger debris.”
“It’ll take days.” Robert frowned. “Even with all of us working in shifts—”
“We don’t have days.” Mrs. Jenkins’s voice held an edge of desperation. “The next storm is coming. Two days at most, Samuel thinks. Maybe less. If the snow gets deeper before we get them out...”
“Then we work faster.” James was already buttoning his coat. “We’ve dug through worse.”
“Wait.” Robert held up a hand. “If we could rig some kind of pulley system—use leverage instead of brute force—”
“That would take time to set up.” Enoch stood. “Time we don’t have.”
“What about the back trail?”
Thomas’s voice cut through the discussion, drawing every head toward him.
He stood slightly apart from his brothers, arms crossed over his chest, his expression thoughtful.
“The north ridge route. It comes down into the canyon from above. If we went in that way, we wouldn’t need to dig at all—just drive the cattle up that back slope and loop around on the old trapper’s path. ”
A moment of silence.
“I—” Mrs. Jenkins’s face had drained of color. “Samuel won’t take that trail.” She spoke quietly, but her tone made the words sound absolute. Final in a way that closed off discussion.
Thomas frowned. “Why not? I know it’s narrow in places, but with the ice melting, it won’t be slick—”
“He won’t.” Mrs. Jenkins’s voice cracked. Her hands had started trembling again, sending ripples through her tea. “When we first moved west, he tried that trail. Early spring, just like now. He thought it was safe.”
She stopped. Drew a breath that made her shoulders shudder.
“The ground gave way beneath his horse. He fell... I don’t know how far.
He’s never told me everything. But I know he nearly died.
I know he spent weeks recovering, and I know he still has nightmares about it.
” She looked up at Thomas, her eyes bright and glassy.
“He made me a promise. He would never take that trail again. Ever. I can’t ask him to break that promise. I won’t.”
The weight of her words pressed down on the room.
A shimmer of understanding touched Thomas’s gaze. Clearly, the Jenkins’ fear ran bone-deep, the kind that couldn’t be reasoned away.
But he must have realized his suggestion could make the difference in this situation.
“Mrs. Jenkins, I understand he’s afraid.
I do. But the conditions are different now—the snow’s had time to settle.
Samuel doesn’t need to come with us. I could lead the way, check every foot of the path before we—”
“Thomas.” James’s voice was gentle but firm. “You heard her.”
“I’m just saying that if we—”
“We’re not going to force a man to face his worst nightmare.” Enoch cut him off, the words landing like stones. “Not when there’s another option.”
“An option that might not work in time.” Thomas’s jaw tightened. “They might lose some of those cattle.”
“Then we work faster.” James clapped his brother on the shoulder—maybe a touch meant to be reassuring, she could almost feel the frustration flaring from Thomas like heat from a fire. “We’ll dig through. All of us working together, around the clock if we have to. We’ll get those cattle out.”
Robert nodded. “I’ll start gathering the tools. We should take the draft horses—”
“I pack food.” Mrs. Wang marched toward the kitchen.
Thomas’s posture had changed. Closed off. Locked down. His face wore that easy half-smile she was coming to recognize as armor—the look that meant he was feeling something he didn’t want anyone to see.
She knew that feeling well. Had tried to hide it herself more times than she could count. The expression of someone whose voice didn’t matter. Whose ideas were dismissed before they could fully form.
The injustice of it burned in her chest.
“I’ll get the horses ready.” Thomas’s voice came out flat. He turned to the door without waiting for a response.
As the rest of the group dispersed to make preparations, she watched through the window as he descended the porch steps and crossed the yard toward the barn, his shoulders straight, his stride just a little too controlled.
I see you. Even if they don’t.
And when, exactly, had seeing Thomas Balfour started to matter so much?