“That was close,” Jim said.
An hour passed. The thunder passed, and the only sound was the echo of heavy drops falling. The rain tapered off.
“Hold the horses,” Jim said. “I’m going to look outside.”
“Alright.”
The floor of the cave was remarkably dry. It sloped slightly upward into the mountain so that what little water splashed inside ran back out the entrance. The cool air was thick with moisture. Jim’s breath made a fog. Over the scent of the horses, Jim could smell wet leather from their saddles and beneath that, the damp earth.
Outside was just as black as the cave. No stars, no moon, nothing but more darkness. Something wet and quite cold struck Jim’s cheek. It didn’t feel like rain. Jim struck a match against the granite. It flared to life with a burst of sour sulfur. In its yellow light, the world shone dull white.
“What is it?” Ellen said when he’d gone back inside.
“Snow. It’s snowing,” Jim said.
“Snow? This late in the year?”
“We’re high up. For all I know, it could snow in July.”
“Surely it’ll melt soon,” Ellen said. “Then we’ll be able to go home.”
“It’s still coming down, big flakes and thick as fleas on a dog’s back. Tomorrow we might wake up to a foot or more.”
With another lit match in hand, Jim rustled around in the cave until he found a pack rat’s nest. He separated out some of the smaller branches and twigs, then stoked them into a tiny fire.
“Won’t be much heat,” he said. “I can’t build anything larger. I’m not sure if there’s a way for the smoke to get out.”
Ellen moved over to the fire and stretched out her hands. Jim stripped the gear from their horses, all but reins and halters. He had an extra shirt in his saddlebags and placed it around Ellen.
“Thank you,” she said.
In her own bags, she had a piece of cheese wrapped in cloth, along with some jerky and a small apple.
“Not much of a meal,” she said.
“I’ve had less.” Jim grinned and she laughed.
“Dinner by candlelight,” Ellen answered. “Almost anyway.”
“I didn’t realize it would take a spring snowstorm to get you alone.”
Ellen’s face reddened in the weak light. “You could have just asked.”
Jim sat on his saddle blanket, and she moved beside him. Then she rested her head on his shoulder. Jim smiled and listened to her soft snores. He brushed her hair aside with his fingertips. He rested his own head on hers and closed his eyes.
The snow continued through the night and into the morning. Beyond the clouds, a weak sun rose and cast the world in a dingy gray. The wind picked up. It sent puffs of snow swirling into the cavern’s mouth.
“It’s so cold,” Ellen said.
“Getting colder by the hour,” Jim agreed. “I don’t think we’ve seen the worst of the storm yet.”
Jim was hungry, tired, too. His dreams had been plagued by storms and chasing gunmen. Ellen seemed to have slept little better. She had to be just as hungry, but did not show it.
“Can we make it to the cabin in this?”
“I don’t think we should chance it. Can’t see more than a few feet. We could get lost and wander around the valley until we froze.” Jim studied the sky. The wall of empty clouds offered no sign of when the storm might break. “Get the canteens and I’ll fill them with snow. We can melt it and at least have something to drink. I’ll grab more wood while I’m out. We’ll have to chance a bigger fire to hold off the cold.”
Jim pulled his coat tighter and stepped into the cold. Snow scrunched with every step. He worked quickly, first filling the canteens, then gathering wood for their fire. There were several downed trees nearby, and he hauled several armloads of branches into the cave. He saw tracks from rabbits and squirrels. This time of year a rabbit would carry little meat, but he’d be glad for one just the same.
By the time he was done Ellen had melted the snow down over the fire, adding more to each canteen to cool them.
Jim took one, drank his fill, then went back out to pack it full of snow again.
“Any sign of the storm passing?” Ellen asked.
“Getting darker,” Jim said. “Staying here another day is a bad idea, but going out could easily be worse. I don’t think we have much choice.”
They told stories through the day and into the evening. Twice, Jim went out to refill the canteens. He saw a rabbit on the second trip, but it scampered away into the brush before he could chance a shot.
Their second night in the cave, Jim slept deep and dreamless. Was he too tired to dream or too hungry? He didn’t know.
The morning of the third day, the sky was lighter. There were still clouds. High and thin, these would not produce much snow. In the distant north, another band of thick gray stretched across the mountains. Those would be dangerous.
The valley lay wrapped in crystal white. Drifts had piled up all around like frozen waves.
“It’s deep in places, but we’ve got to chance it,” Jim said. He pointed to the band of gray. “Could be more snow again tonight.”
“I’ve had enough of living in a cave,” Ellen smiled.
