Jim smiled at that. Then he dragged one of the rounds close to the fire and sat down.
“Wolves,” he said.
“Wolves?”
“All over the valley. I shot two, wounded another, but there’s a full pack of them. They killed three cows already.”
A cough came from the next room, and Jim frowned toward it.
“She’s not doing any better,” Ellen said. “She needs medicine.”
“And we don’t have any.” Jim looked at the door. Wind moaned and gusted through the joints. “And we don’t have a way to get it. Valley’s all snowed in.”
“How much longer can this last?” Ellen handed him the bowl. She’d put a biscuit on top and he dunked it into the stew before taking a bite.
“I don’t know. Two more days and the barn will fall down. Only good thing is the wolves won’t be able to hunt the cattle in this. They’ll hole up tight in their dens.”
“And after the storm breaks?”
Jim looked again toward the door. “We’ll see. I could try for the settlement.”
“In this? Can it even be done?”
Abigail started another coughing fit and Ellen’s breath caught and held. Half a minute passed before it finally stopped. What would she do if her mother just gave up and stopped coughing? How much longer could she struggle on? Better weather would help, but how long until the storm breaks ?
Jim squeezed her shoulders reassuringly. “It can be done. If I have to walk to Onionville and back, I’ll do it.”
Ellen believed him. Jim was that kind of man. If Jim said he would get medicine for her mother, then he would, and that was all there was to it. She’d seen him come through too many times in the past.
He will come through again. I know he will.We just need the storm to break.
Outside, the wind only howled.
Chapter 2
Sometime after midnight, the storm finally ended.
Jim dressed as warmly as he was able, then opened the door and found it blocked by a wall of solid white. He leaned forward and saw a hint of light coming in near the edge of the roofline.
“Looks like it’s piled up over the house,” he said.
Ellen stood a few feet behind him. She moved up and put her hand against the packed snow. “How do we get out?”
“Dig, I guess.” Jim took up the bucket they used for hauling water. He scooped it full, then packed more snow in with his hands. “Set this near the fire and we’ll have fresh water.”
Then he picked up the shovel from beside the door and set about tunneling his way up and out. Snow fell in great soft clumps and his arms burned with exertion before he breached the outside. When he finally managed it, the sun blazed overhead on a world of pure crystalline white. He turned enough to see the stack of the chimney, smoke lifting from it in puffs of dirty gray, and to his right was the peak of the barn’s roof.
At least it didn’t collapse.
The drift that buried the door and barn covered the rear of the cabin only halfway to the eaves. Jim crawled on hands and knees away from his tunnel until the drift tapered down. He could see stalks of grass, poking up like tiny flagpoles through the white expanse.
Nothing moved. There was no sound. In Jim’s ears, the echo of the storm’s magnificent fury howled and roared. Everything lay covered in a layer of white. The mountains rising all around the valley looked like jagged teeth.
Jim tried to stand and walk to the barn, but immediately sank to his waist. He sprawled forward and crawled on his belly toward the barn, then began digging in search of the door.
The barn’s interior was dark when he finally cleared enough snow to squeeze through the door, and it had an eerie blue glow to it. Light came in around small holes or narrow cracks in the barn’s eaves, some blunted through a layer of thin snow, but most fell in dozens of bright, narrow beams.
Jim checked the horses. The Appaloosa stomped impatiently in his stall, and Jim fed him several forks of the hay they had cut last summer, followed by a double handful of oats. He did the same with the family’s other horses, Colton’s roan and the bay David and Ellen shared.
When it was done, he looked at the dwindling pile of hay. Three horses would eat a lot through the long winter. Much more than what remained. They needed more hay. If the weather cleared, he could find and cut that himself; there were several places he knew would hold some. But they also needed more oats.
Another expense. The need for money is endless.
David had made a wooden bucket to water the stock, and Jim was grateful he’d emptied it last night. He took the bucket and belly-crawled his way out of the barn and back down into the house.
“Are the horses alright?” Ellen said.
“Good enough,” Jim answered. “Thirsty, though. Fill that with warm water and I’ll get it back to them. I’ll need more; it’ll take a few trips.”
He stayed near the door, away from the fire, while he waited. No need to warm himself if he was only going to go right back out.
Walt came into the room then, Alma a few steps behind. “How deep is it?” he asked.
Jim smiled down at the boy. “Deep enough to cover the house.”
Walt grinned. “Can I go out with you? I want to see it. “
“You might not after you get up there. It’s mighty cold.” Jim blew on his hands to make his point.
