An Outlaw’s Refuge in Her Heart (Preview)

Chapter One

Aspen Falls, Wyoming Territory, January 1869

Hannah Mercer stood in the middle of the crowded ward. She was seventeen, still fresh-faced and hopeful that she could make a difference in the war effort. Narrow iron cots crowded around her, every one filled with a groaning soldier. There were so many men stained with grime and blood that the ones with lesser injuries were given a place on the floor since there were no more beds.

Her apron was stained deep red. Blood dripped from her hands, and her body ached with exhaustion.

“Don’t stand around, nurse!” Doctor Webber cried.

He was the youngest doctor on the ward. All the nurses loved working with him since he was both handsome and kind. The head nurse, Miriam, only assigned older nurses to him since the younger girls sometimes got distracted when he was in the vicinity.

“Not you, though, Hannah.” Miriam sighed, patting Hannah on the back. “You have more sense than that. It’s hardly surprising, considering you come from St. Helen’s.”

It was meant to be a compliment, but it was just a reminder that she was different. The other girls came from good homes and caring parents.

“Dr. Webber?” Hannah reached out to him.

His face was still young, unblemished. The doctor’s wavy brown hair fell in front of his eyes as he worked frantically over a soldier. He pressed his hand over a gushing bullet wound in the man’s chest. It looked more like a fountain than an injury.

Something wasn’t right.

“How are you here?” Hannah murmured. She reached out to touch him.

Her hand went right through him.

“What are you waiting for, Hannah?” Dr. Webber cried.

His eyes were wide with panic as he fought to staunch the flow of blood. Hannah turned around and grabbed bandages. She didn’t want to tell him that it was no use. The man had lost too much blood. There was no way they could save him.

“Hannah!”

She handed Dr. Webber the bandages. Her chest hurt when he called her name. There was something wrong.
Hannah helped him stitch up the wound. The smell of sweat and unwashed bodies mixed with a sweet, rotting odor. No amount of carbolic acid could wash away the scent of gangrene.

“Mama, it’s time to feed the pigs. Don’t forget,” a young soldier from the next bed over murmured as he tossed in his cot, sweat drenching his body.

“It’s too late!” Dr. Webber cried, stepping away from the bed.

“Don’t give up, Doctor,” she said soothingly.

It was the tone she used whenever he was overwhelmed. Dr. Webber looked up at her, his clear blue eyes assessing her face. Time stopped as they glanced at each other. Hannah’s heart clenched. She’d missed these quiet moments between them. However, they had work to do. She turned back to the patient, but his eyes were wide and staring.

The nagging feeling that something was wrong clung to her, scratching the back of her mind.

“We lost him.” Dr. Webber ran his hand through his hair.

She clasped her hands in front of her, ignoring the stickiness of the blood. Hannah wanted to push her hands into the nearest bucket of water and scrub until she was completely clean.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“You should be.” The doctor crossed his arms over his chest.

She looked up at him in shock.

“After all, it’s your husband.”

Hannah glanced down at the patient. Bile rose up in her throat. The soldier, who’d been a stranger a moment before, had turned into her husband Micah. His sightless brown eyes stared at the ceiling.

She stepped back, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Why’d you do it, Hannah?” Dr. Webber asked.

She looked over at him uncomprehendingly. What was he talking about?

“Why did you go to Wyoming?” Dr. Webber asked. “Why did you leave?”

The truth hit her over the head. It stunned her with its heartbreaking simplicity.

“You died,” she whispered. “You got sick. You didn’t make it.”

His expression hardened as he grabbed hold of her arm. Hannah’s mouth went dry. Dr. Webber had never laid hands on her. He’d always been so kind and gentle in life.

“You left,” he growled. “Why did you leave it all behind?”

“Let go!” She wrenched her arm away from him and squared her shoulders. “What else was I supposed to do? The war is over! I had to find a way to survive!”

“You married him!” Dr. Webber gestured at Micah. “Did you even love him?”
Hannah stepped away from the men.

“You gave up your calling,” Dr. Webber snorted. “I thought we were the same, you and I. We had the same mission. But you gave it up the moment things got hard.”

“I had to eat!” Hannah pointed out.

“Mama!” The soldier from the nearest bed grew frantic. “The pigs!”

His cries seemed to set off the other soldiers. The men yelped in pain, calling out to their loved ones, begging for help. The cacophony grew overwhelming.

Hannah turned in panic, trying to find a way to make the noise stop. She pressed her hands against her ears as her heart raced painfully. It was too much.

Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t ignore Dr. Webber. He stood uncomfortably close, staring down at her with an accusing expression. When he spoke, his words cut through the chaos.

“You left me. And look what became of you…”

She turned away from him as she clenched her eyes shut. There were times when she would have given anything to see his face again, but this was too painful. This version of Dr. Webber was cruel, something the real Caleb Webber had never been.

A hand touched her chin, and she opened her eyes to see Micah tilting her head toward him.

“You used me,” he hissed.

Hannah cried out and stumbled back. She fell to the ground, but she never landed.

***

Hannah’s eyes flew open and she sat up in bed with a gasp. She clutched her chest as she tried to steady her breathing. Her dream clung to her, and she could almost smell the gangrene from the hospital ward. Her beloved dog, Duke, whimpered by her side, pressing his nose against her hand.

“It’s all right, boy,” she whispered.

He nudged her side again before jumping off the bed and turning in a circle. If it wasn’t for the white fur on his belly and the splash of white on his face, he would have blended into the darkness.

It was harder getting out of bed with her enormous belly. She had to roll on her side and push herself up with all her strength. Duke hurried to her side, his tail wagging nervously.

She chuckled at his reaction and ruffled his ears. The border collie had become increasingly protective ever since she’d become pregnant.

The floor was icy beneath her feet, so she shoved them into a pair of slippers before quickly getting dressed for the day. Hannah’s hand hovered over her clothing before she finally chose the trustworthy blue gingham dress she always wore.

Her eye caught the soft yellow material of her wedding dress, which also happened to be the nicest dress she owned, and quickly shut the door. Micah’s boots, still covered in crusted mud, stood by the doorway next to her own. She pulled on her boots without casting a second glance at Micah’s.

Her throat thickened with emotion at the sight of them, but she forced herself to look past them. It had only been two months since his death. Those two months felt both like an instant and an eternity. His absence left her exposed to dangers she’d never even considered.

Hannah shook her head and left the room. Daylight was precious in the winter, and she couldn’t waste it on memories.

The air in the living room was a lot warmer than in the room. Duke went straight to his food bowl, where Nell, Hannah’s helper, had already laid out his food for him.

“It’s almost cozy in here,” she commented.

“That was the idea.” Nell chuckled.

The younger woman was on her knees, tending to the banked coals. She glanced up at Hannah, her eyes bright and a smudge of coal on her pert nose.

“How did you sleep?” she asked.

“Well enough.” Hannah made her way to the tea pot that stood steaming on the counter.

Nell’s cot sat near the stove. Hannah had offered her the spare room, but Nell insisted on staying in the living room. She claimed it was warmer, and it helped her get up on time.

“I heard sounds coming from the room,” Nell said, raising her eyebrows. “Were you having nightmares again?”

Hannah poured the tea in a cup and sipped it slowly. The warm liquid spread through her body, but it also gave her an excuse to delay answering Nell’s question.

“Hannah?” Nell stood up and put a hand on her hip.

“It wasn’t so bad this time around,” Hannah admitted. “I was back at the hospital ward. Micah was there.”

“Poor dear.” Nell shook her head. “Did you have to tend to his wounds again?”

“I don’t know why we have to discuss my bad dreams,” Hannah grumbled. “They’re just dreams.”

Duke, having finished his breakfast, walked over and sat next to Hannah, looking at the door expectantly. She ignored him while she drank her tea. He obviously wanted to go out, but she wasn’t ready to brave the snow just yet. Although Nell’s probing questions would probably drive her out the door soon enough.

“It helps to talk about these things,” Nell said. “You need to get the bad feelings out, otherwise they’ll weigh your heart down and sit over the baby’s head.”

“That’s not how that works,” Hannah said, shaking her head. “The heart’s a far way from the top of the baby’s head.”

Nell shook her head so that her blonde curls bounced around her shoulders. “You know what I mean. Listen, when my mama was pregnant with my brother Liam, her own mother died. She was heartbroken, but she didn’t let herself feel all that. When Liam was born, he was a difficult baby. And we all know where he is now. You don’t want your baby to end up in jail, too.”

“I’m sorry about Liam,” Hannah said gently, tucking her hair behind her ear. She’d braided it a few moments ago, but a few strands had fallen around her face.

Although her hair was the color of roasted chestnuts, a few gray strands had started appearing around the time of her husband’s death. She was far too young to be going gray, but apparently it sometimes happened during times of great trouble.

“But there’s a lot of other reasons why Liam ended up the way he did. Besides, wasn’t he your mama’s sixth baby?”

“Seventh.”

“See? I’m sure she had terrible things happen during her other pregnancies too. I don’t think a mother’s emotions during pregnancy have such a strong effect on the baby.” Hannah drained her tea then put it down on the counter. “I’d better go check on the chickens.”

She ducked out of the kitchen, grabbing the chicken feed before Nell could stop her. They’d had the same debate a thousand times already, and they could never come to an agreement. Despite Nell’s nagging, Hannah was deeply grateful for the girl’s help.

The air outside was brittle, biting at her lungs as she breathed in. Duke barked happily, jumping in the snow as he followed at Hannah’s side.

“You just love the outside, don’t you?” She ruffled his ears as she walked.

Hannah tread carefully, as some of the snow had turned icy in patches. She kept a hand on her belly. It was comforting to feel the weight of the baby there. Her little one had started moving lately, and its little kicks were reminders of the miracle cooking in her belly.

“Hey there, baby,” she cooed.

As she walked, she caught sight of herself in the window by the door. Her frame, usually lean and strong, had softened somewhat due to the pregnancy. She looked away quickly and kept walking.

The chicken coop wasn’t far from the kitchen door, so it wasn’t a long trek. Hannah climbed into the coop, causing the chickens to cluck in alarm. She scattered feed on the plank flooring, and the chickens rushed to claim their food. They scrambled over her feet, clucking and complaining all the way.

Hannah walked among them, checking for missing birds or frostbitten combs. When she was sure that all the chickens were present, she began collecting the eggs. Most of them were still warm, having been protected by their mothers, while one or two had frozen during the night.

Once she was done, she packed the eggs into the now-empty basket and broke the ice over the chickens’ water pan. When she stepped outside, her foot slid on a patch of ice. Hannah grabbed hold of the top of the chicken coop, banging her knee on the side of the structure.

Duke barked, jumping around her worriedly as she winced and rubbed her knee.

“Hannah! Are you all right?”

Her heart sank as Roy Hawthorne rushed up toward her. Roy was much taller than her, with broad-shoulders and sun-kissed skin that remained tanned even in the dead of winter. His meaty hand took hold of her elbow and helped to steady her.

“I’m all right,” she insisted, pulling her arm away from him.

“Nell should be out here,” he said with a huff, narrowing his eyes at the house.

“She’s inside.” Hannah waved her hand dismissively. “I wanted to come collect the eggs and feed the chickens. It’s still my ranch, you know.”

Roy pressed his lips in a thin line as he walked her back to the house. He hovered near her arm, as if he wanted to take hold of her again. It took all her control not to elbow him away from her.

While he was frustrating her with his constant proximity, he was also a big help on the ranch. There were few ranch hands who would treat their employer’s land like their own.

Roy was always first to arrive and last to leave. He always knew what to do and how to help. Of course, he never hesitated to remind Hannah of that fact. How was she supposed to tell him what to do when he knew so much more than her?

Duke barked at Roy as they both vied to get closer to Hannah.

“Don’t worry, boy,” Hannah told him, “I’m doing fine.”

“Goodness, what happened?” Nell asked, rushing outside to meet them.

“Nothing,” Hannah said at the same time as Roy said, “She fell!”

“You fell?” Nell held out her hands to help Hannah up the stairs.

“I’m pregnant, not lame,” Hannah griped as she ignored Nell’s hand and climbed up the stairs. “As soon as breakfast is done, I’m going to check on the cattle.”

“That ain’t a good idea,” Roy said with a wince.

“If I hear one more word about my girth, I’m going to be upset,” she warned.

“No, ma’am.” Roy held up his hands in surrender. “Look, the sky’s angry.”

Hannah glanced up at the sky. The heavy gray clouds seemed to press down on them.

“We’re in for a blizzard,” Roy warned. “We need to divide the chores and get as much done before the storm hits.”
Hannah’s heart sank as she looked over at Nell. The very last thing they needed was a snowstorm. They would probably be trapped inside for weeks. Her hand went to her belly. She was nearly ready to give birth. And she knew better than most that things could go wrong in an instant.

“All right,” Hannah said quietly. “Let’s do that, then.”

She gazed beyond Roy at the rolling hills and massive land. The weight of her responsibilities seemed to drag her down. How on earth was she going to take care of Micah’s ranch and a child all on her own?

Panic threatened to consume her, but she pressed it down. She smiled as she imagined the emotion looming over her child’s head. It was no laughing matter, however—she’d have to find a way to become a rancher and a mother at the same time.

Chapter 2

Near Aspen Falls, Wyoming Territory, January 1869

The stagecoach jolted and rattled over the frozen ruts. Each bump shook Isaac Rourke’s teeth and bones alike. Its wooden wheels groaned under the weight of passengers, luggage, and supplies. The iron rims scraped against a hidden rock beneath the snow, and the resulting screech stung Isaac’s ears.

He did his best to ignore the sound as he turned a ratty, thin flat cap in his hands. His throat thickened with emotion as he stared down at the cap. Memories pressed in from every side, demanding to be acknowledged.

“Where’d you get that thing?” Isaac teased as Tommy perched the cap over his head.

“From that merchant over there,” Tommy said, using the shop window to check his reflection.

“It looks like they stole that thing off a vagrant.” Isaac made as if he was going to grab the cap, but Tommy danced out of reach.

“You’re just jealous.” The youngster’s eyes glittered with pride. “I look sharp, don’t I? Watch out, ladies! Tommy’s out on the town.”

“‘Watch out, ladies’ is right. They might get lice from that thing if they get too close,” Isaac chortled.

Tommy sniffed as he shook his head. “You’re so jealous.”

“You better not have stolen that thing,” Isaac warned. “I don’t want to get chased down over something that looks like a dog’s been chewing on it.”

“I bought this.” Tommy puffed his chest out proudly. “With my own money, no less.”

“That’s generally how people buy things,” Isaac teased.

Tommy rolled his eyes and went back to adjusting his hat. “It’s the first piece of clothing I bought with my first wages. You ain’t going to make me feel bad about that.”

Isaac swallowed hard. Tommy was gone, and now all he had left to remember him by was a tatty old hat. He’d learned long ago that life wasn’t fair, but it still found ways to kick him in the teeth.

The stagecoach jolted again, sending shivers up Isaac’s spine. The cold wind that leaked through the cracks in the coach walls caused goosebumps to erupt across his skin, and he rubbed his hands together in an effort to keep the cold away.

“That won’t be doing much good,” the older man next to Isaac warned.

He was a little shorter than Isaac with graying hair and a weathered face. They’d spoken sporadically during the journey, but Isaac was in no mood to hold a conversation.

Isaac grunted as he put his hands in his pockets.

“You don’t look prepared for a Wyoming winter,” the man commented. His eyes lingered on Isaac’s face, or more specifically, on the long thin scar that ran along his jaw. The old man was probably wondering about the story behind such a scar. Whenever Isaac met new people, they eventually got around to asking about it.

“I lost my bag a while back,” Isaac explained. “It had most of my winter clothes in it.”

“Bad luck, that.” The man grimaced. “You can probably stock up when you get to Aspen Falls. I know a good man who’ll help you out. He’ll haggle with you, but I’ll make sure he gives you a decent price.”

Isaac scratched the scar on his cheek. He nearly winced as he felt it under his fingers. It was usually at this point that people asked about it and he’d have to come up with some story to placate them. Thankfully, the old man didn’t seem too curious about Isaac’s scar.

“That’s kind of you.” Isaac inclined his head to the man. “I won’t be in Aspen Falls for long. I’m heading out farther west as soon as I find another stagecoach.”

“That’ll be another week or so,” the man said, rubbing his chin. “Let me think… Ol’ Jonesy might make a trip sooner, but that all depends on the weather. Where are you headed? Perhaps I can help you out.”
Isaac shifted in his seat.

“The name’s Harry,” the man said, holding out his hand to Isaac. “I reckon you won’t want to accept help from a stranger this far out, so I’d better introduce myself.”

“Isaac.” He shook Harry’s hand.

“I’m a merchant, you see,” Harry explained. “I was in the city talking to suppliers. It’s going to be a hard winter. I’ll head up in a couple days to get the stock I ordered. It’s a good living, supplying to the ranches, but it’s hard. I used to think merchants made decent money—until I became one!”

Isaac nodded slowly as he ran a hand through his hair. The dark brown strands were getting longer than usual. He’d have to cut it as soon as he got a chance.

His thoughts drifted as Harry chattered away. Merchants tended to be talkative. They knew everything about everyone, and usually didn’t bother keeping that information to themselves. The last thing he needed was for Harry to pry into his business. Considering his string of bad luck, he wasn’t all that surprised to discover that he was sitting next to a possible gossip.

The universe had it out for Isaac, and it was only a matter of time before it got the better of him. He’d keep fighting until that day, but it was starting to feel like an impossible battle.

“Of course,” Harry continued, “it’s my own fault for having twelve children. That would be enough to drive anyone to poverty.”

“Twelve?” Isaac said in surprise.

It wasn’t unusual to have many children, but it was surprising that so many of them had survived past their first few years in such a harsh environment.

Outside the coach, the hills rose and fell in waves of white. The wind blew in sudden gusts, sending snow curling like smoke over the hillside. Trees leaned and creaked under the burden of ice and snow, their branches scraping one another. The hills seemed to disappear into gray fog, leaving the landscape shifting and alien. It was hardly welcoming.

“I know.” Harry chuckled. “Me and my wife are fixin’ to populate the whole of the West by ourselves. One day, there will be one of my kin in every town from here to Cheyenne.”

“That’s… an interesting goal.” Isaac took his hands out of his pocket as he moved fidgeted with the cap.

“I like to laugh about it,” Harry said with a shrug. “Say, that ain’t a bad hat, but it might be time for a new one.”

“Seems to me you’re always looking to make a sale.” Isaac was slightly irritated, but he couldn’t help but be amused by Harry’s persistence.

“That’s part of the job,” Harry said unapologetically. “Let me introduce you to my friend before you leave. You could use the warm clothes. My wife would never forgive me if I let you go into the cold like that.”

“It belonged to my friend,” Isaac explained. “He’s not around anymore.”
Harry winced and patted Isaac’s back. “I’m sorry to hear that. I sure know how to step in it. My wife, Rose, is always telling me that I find the quickest way to offend people.”

“I’m not offended,” Isaac assured him. “How could you have known?”

“You holding onto that hat as a keepsake?” Harry asked, nodding at the cap. “I did the same when my ma died. Strange enough, I didn’t keep anything when my pa died. It’s not like I loved my pa less. I suppose grief is just funny that way.”

“My friend was real proud of this cap,” Isaac explained. “If I had to choose one thing to remember him by, this would probably be it.”

He didn’t mention that there had been no time to choose anything else. Isaac’s chest tightened as he thought back to the day Tommy died. Gunshots rang in his ears, and he could still smell the acrid burning of gunpowder.

“Don’t leave me,” Tommy begged, clutching Isaac’s shirt. “Don’t let me die alone.”

Isaac leaned back in his seat and ran his hand through his hair.

“Then it’s a good keepsake,” Harry said with a nod. “I kept my ma’s shawl. It smelled like her. After my last one, Jenny, was born, she didn’t sleep so good. You know, colic. The poor girl fussed and cried all night. We didn’t get any sleep, and we were exhausted.

“One night, I had the shawl with me. My wife called me for some reason or other and I left it by the side of the crib. Jenny must have pulled it toward her somehow ’cause when I got back, there she was, sleeping as soundly as can be all wrapped up in the shawl. I didn’t dare take it away from her. That day, it became hers.”

“You lost the keepsake,” Isaac surmised, “but at least the child was sleeping better.”

“I would have given her my house if it made her sleep,” Harry joked, “but once I gave it to her, it was like I was free. I still missed my ma, but it helped to give it up, I think.”

“It did?” Isaac raised his eyebrows.

“My ma wasn’t in the shawl,” Harry pointed out. “And keeping it wasn’t going to keep her around. She was gone. I think parting with the shawl helped me make my peace with that.”

Isaac swallowed hard as he shoved the cap back into his pocket. It was an interesting theory, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to try it.

The stagecoach screeched to a halt, jolting Isaac forward. He held out his hand to stop himself, but Harry wasn’t so quick. The older man lurched forward and nearly fell on his knees. Isaac held out his arm, preventing Harry from tumbling to the floor.

“Good man,” Harry said gruffly.

They climbed off the stagecoach along with the other passengers. Isaac took his small carpetbag and was about to disappear among the unfamiliar streets of Aspen Valley when he noticed Harry struggling under the weight of a large trunk.

Isaac hesitated. While he wanted to go, he also couldn’t turn his back on a man in need. Isaac hurried over to Harry and grabbed hold of the other end of the trunk.

“You’re too kind.” Harry beamed. “I sure am glad that I traveled with a strapping young man like you.”

Isaac simply nodded. He was used to manual labor, and the trunk wasn’t too heavy. He glanced at the sky as they trudged along the snowy streets of Aspen Falls. The sky was quickly growing darker.

There was nothing special about the place, just a cluster of wooden buildings leaning against each other for support. A walkway lined the main street, but the rest of the town only had roads filled with deep ruts.

Harry led him to a small house near the outskirts of the town. A warm glow emanated from within, and as soon as Harry approached, a mass of children tumbled out of the house.

“Papa!”

The kids clamored for their father’s attention. Harry dropped his end of the trunk and hugged his children, his face glowing with delight.

Isaac needed to find shelter for the night, and quickly. The stagecoach journey had taken longer than he expected. Hopefully, there was an unattended barn nearby.

“Children, this here is Isaac,” Harry said, gesturing grandly. “Say hello.”

“Hello!” the children chorused.

One little boy walked up to Isaac and stuck out his hand with a somber expression. Isaac’s heart clenched as he looked down at the child. The boy’s eyes were the same shade of brown as Tommy’s.

“Good to meet you, sir,” the boy said.

“Good to meet you too,” Isaac said, inclining his head toward the child.

“Come on in,” Harry said, gesturing toward Isaac. “Join us for dinner before you move on.”

Isaac hesitated as he looked over his shoulder. A warm meal sounded amazing, but he had to find somewhere to sleep. It would be easier to do that while it was still light out.

“Thank you kindly, but I’d better be on my way,” Isaac said.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows. “I hope you have somewhere warm to stay. It looks like we’re in for one mighty snowstorm.”

Isaac’s chest clenched as he nodded. An impending snowstorm made it even more important for him to find shelter before it was too late.

“Thank you, but I should go,” Isaac said. He hitched his bag on his shoulder and started walking.

Besides, it was better to stay out of town just in case someone was following his trail. The last thing he wanted was to bring trouble to an innocent family.

As he left, Harry bustled into the house with the children.

“Pa… did you manage to find me a hat?”

Isaac paused. He looked over his shoulder. Harry was surrounded by kids. His face glowed with the same joy Isaac saw reflected on their faces. Only the little boy who’d shook Isaac’s hand stood apart from the rest. He wrung his hands as he asked his timid question.

“Pa?” he asked again, but Harry couldn’t hear him over the chatter of the other children.

Isaac swallowed hard. Harry’s words came back to him in a flash.

My ma wasn’t in the shawl. And keeping it wasn’t going to keep her around. She was gone. I think parting with the shawl helped me make my peace with that.

Isaac took a deep, steadying breath. He walked up to the boy and handed him the cap. The little boy looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Is this for me?” he asked breathlessly.

Isaac nodded.

The boy quickly put the hat on his head, using the window reflection to check his appearance. “Thank you, sir. It looks wonderful!”

“You look sharp,” Isaac said, his voice thick with emotion.

He forced himself to turn away before he could second-guess his decision and made his way deeper into the heart of Aspen Falls.

***

The snow started falling gently. Then it turned on him like a vicious animal.

He’d been walking for hours, putting one frozen foot in front of the other, following nothing but the voice inside him that told him moving was better than stopping. His legs burned, then numbed, then burned again. Every breath he took cut his lungs raw.

The wind tore at his coat, finding every weakness in the worn seams. Still, he lowered his head and kept going.

By the time the storm broke, the world went quiet and turned white. Snow drove sideways, stinging his skin. Everything vanished one by one until it was just him against the snow. He prayed for a barn. He prayed for a bush to hide behind. He prayed for any kind of shelter against the wind.

His thoughts slowed. His hands stopped hurting, but he flexed them anyway, refusing to let them go still and give in to the numbness.

A stand of trees loomed out of the white like specters. He pushed toward them, relying on instinct instead of reason. The trees would shelter him. Trees would give him a chance.

He made his way between the trunks. While the branches broke some of the wind’s force, it wasn’t enough. The cold wouldn’t leave.

His knees buckled, but he caught himself on a tree. He grunted in pain. His muscles ached from the constant cold. There was nothing he could do to warm himself up.

“Keep moving,” he urged himself. “Just keep going.”

The world dimmed at the edges. His thoughts tangled, drifting loose from one another. The ache in his body soothed as his mind went blank. Darkness pressed in on him, promising rest as long as he surrendered.

Isaac sank to his knees. He couldn’t remember making the decision, only that his body no longer listened to him. He leaned his shoulder against the trunk of the tree, his head dropping forward.

Listening to the roar of the wind, he imagined it was carrying him far away. Then eventually that faded, too. Snow gathered around his legs, but it no longer seemed like a bad thing.

The cold enveloped him and he fell backward into the darkness.

A loud, sharp bark pierced his rest. He forced his eyes open, and there was a blur of black against the white. It seemed the darkness wasn’t just in his mind. Night had arrived.

He shuddered and allowed his eyes to flutter shut.

This time when the bark came, he didn’t bother opening his eyes. A moment later, the sweetest voice he’d ever heard reached his ears.

“There’s someone here!”

Isaac fell into the darkness with an ache in his chest. His mind was playing tricks on him. No one was coming to help.