Winter's Torment (4 page)

Winter couldn’t move. She was so cold she thought that if she made an attempt, one of her joints would shatter into tiny shards of ice. First, she had lost all feeling in her feet, and then her hands. She tried to bury her face in her lap, but nothing seemed to help against the biting, dropping temperatures. All around her the wind whistled. When it paused, even for a moment, she was surrounded by nothing but a pressing silence. The snow fell quietly, accumulating inch by inch.

She wished she could do something to strengthen her shelter, but now she was so frozen that she couldn’t even move. She was beginning to feel lethargic, sleepy. She fought against the desire to just relinquish herself to an overriding urge to fall asleep. She had never been so cold in her life, and was amazed at what she had withstood so far. This had nothing to do with emotion;
this
was purely physical. While she was rather impressed with her physical strength, she could only pray for God’s help when it came to her mental and emotional strength.

After her little boy had died, she had literally given up, but she didn’t want to give up any more. She didn’t want to surrender! Despite her nearly overwhelming desire to be with her little boy again, she realized that it was not her time. She had spent the last hour having a one-sided conversation with God in her head, asking for guidance, direction, and most of all, she wanted to know what she was supposed to do. The only thought that came back to her was one word.

Survive
.

The wind picked up and then died, then picked up again, then ebbed. She had no idea how long she had been out here, but it felt like forever. She began to lose hope that she would ever be found. As the minutes passed, she decided that it she would abide by God’s will, and if it was His will for her to freeze to death out here and be buried under snow for the remainder of winter, maybe, just maybe to be unearthed in the spring, well then so be it. But until that moment when darkness overtook her, she would do what she could to survive.

She tried to stamp her feet and wiggle her fingers, but they wouldn’t move. She pressed her legs together, trying to bring some heat into them. Working very hard, she managed to clench her fingers into fists. Then, above the sound of the wind, she heard a faint sound.

It seemed out of place, and she had no idea where it was coming from, but it was different than the sound of the wind, and even when the wind ebbed and she heard it again.

The sound disappeared, and she supposed it had been an animal, perhaps an elk or a buffalo or even a coyote or wolf howling for its mate. Then, when the wind once again ebbed, she heard it again.

That wasn’t any animal. That was a
human
voice!

“…
Winter
…!”

She tried to answer, knowing without a doubt that it was Henry coming to look for her. She tried again, but the only sound that issued from her throat was a weak croak. He wouldn’t find her! He could pass right by her, within feet maybe, and not even know she was here!

“
Winter!
”

The voice grew slightly louder. She tried harder to respond. “Henry!” The sound of her voice was nothing but a crackling warble. Forcing one hand into the snow, she clasped the handful of snow and brought it to her mouth, waiting several interminable seconds as it melted. She swallowed the freezing droplets, then tried again.

“Henry!”

“Winter!?” Another pause. “Winter!”

The sound was Henry’s, no doubt. He was nearby, but couldn’t place her location.

“Winter!” his deep voice ordered. “Call out again, try again!”

She tried again, using all her strength to call out as loudly as she could. “Henry! I’m over here! In the bushes!”

Even though her voice was not very loud, but by some miracle he had heard her. In a matter of seconds, she heard his horse plodding through the snow. She watched in absolute shock as he appeared through the foggy, cloudy distance and dismounted, wrapped in a huge animal skin. He tied the horse’s reins to a nearby shrub, sheltered somewhat from the cold by the side of the gully. In the next instant, he was beside her, wrapping her and himself into the warmth of the buffalo robe.

She was surprised that she had the energy to start crying, but she did. She felt his arms wrap around her, rubbing her vigorously, trying to get her circulation going.

As he did, her limbs came alive with what felt like tiny electrical charges that caused pain. She began to moan, but he didn’t let up, not for a second. The tingling pain meant that the blood was once again flowing.

“You foolish woman, braving a snowstorm to bring me a cheese sandwich,” he teased, relief heavy in his voice.

She stared at him a moment, confused, and then offered him a wan grin. She responded, her voice shivering so badly that she found it difficult to speak. “It wasn’t… snow…ing when I left… the horse… she stum…bled, and when I got off to look, some…thing startled her.”

“It’s all right, Winter, it’s all right. You’re safe now. I found you.”

For some reason, Winter began to cry in earnest. Ignoring the pain and the stiffness, she wrapped her arms around Henry’s waist. “I’m so sorry… I made you sleep in the barn last night.”

The laugh that rumbled from low in his throat startled her.

“It’s all right, Winter,” he said. “I told you that I would give you all the time you needed.”

“I.. it was late, but I thought… to get up last night and tell you to make a spot for yourself in front of the fireplace, but I… I fell asleep. This morning when I got up, you were gone.”

“It’s all right,” he repeated.

His compassion overwhelmed her, making her realize that not everyone was like Gunter. She felt overwhelmed with emotion. “Oh, Henry, I miss my little boy so,” she moaned, clasping him tightly to her. “I would give anything to hold him in my arms again… in fact, I almost surrendered, and decided that it might be best if I was to—”

“It’s not your time yet, Winter,” Henry said, rubbing his hands up and down along her back, shoulders, and upper arms. “You feeling warmer yet?”

She nodded, although her teeth still chattered. The buffalo robe kept a surprising amount of cold out, and she felt as if she were wrapped in a warm cocoon. “Yes… thank you,” she said. Henry gazed deep into Winter’s eyes, and she stared back at him. “What?”

“Maybe this is the perfect time to purge yourself,” he said.

He held the edges of the buffalo robe closely around them, enveloped her in warmth, security, and a safety that she didn’t think she’d ever feel again.

“Get it all out, Winter,” he urged her. “Get it out so that you can finally deal with it and face it.”

She knew that he was talking about her grief, but she felt hesitant. If she finally released it, talked about it, would it lose its impact on her? He seemed to know what she was thinking. His next words proved it.

“Winter, dealing with your grief won’t make it go away, but you can’t hold it inside. Grief has a way of eating you alive from the inside out. Once you put it into words, it loses some of its power to overwhelm you.”

She stared at him, eyes wide. He sounded as if he spoke from experience.

“I lost my little sister when I was a teenager,” he said, still rubbing her back, only a little slower now. “I blamed myself for years. If only… what ifs… I blamed myself for her loss.”

Winter didn’t say anything, knowing that he had more to say.

“We’d gone ice-skating on a pond near our house. I should’ve known the ice wasn’t thick enough, but I was young and foolish, and she was my shadow. Long story short, she fell through the ice. I couldn’t get to her in time.”

Winter saw the pain etched into his features and knew that he was right. She would never stop grieving for the loss of her son, but she could move forward. Slowly, she spoke.

“We were in a buggy accident,” she explained. “My husband was driving, in a hurry because we were running late for church. The buggy crashed and my son was flung from my arms. He died instantly. My husband blamed me.”

“Is that why he divorced you?”

She nodded, staring down at his hands, now covering hers, warming them.

“But you do know that it wasn’t your fault, don’t you?”

She nodded, warm tears now streaming down her cold cheeks.

He sighed. “Grief is a terrible thing, Winter,” he said. “But through the grace of God, our hearts are patched up, not good as new, but stitched together so that they work okay. You understand what I’m saying?”

The storm outside their cozy buffalo robe cocoon intensified. Pretty soon, according to Henry, it had turned into a full-blown blizzard. He stepped from their warm cocoon to bring his horse closer to the bushes, and made a little shelter for the mare as best he could. She stood on three legs, one hoof lifted from the snow, her back to the wind. When he returned to the warmth of the buffalo robe, he told Winter that his friend, William Linder, had taken a wagon loaded with supplies to his ranch, hoping to find her somewhere along the path.

“I hope he’s safe at your ranch,” she said.

“
Our
ranch, Winter,” he corrected.

She nodded. She felt humbled that a total stranger, no,
two
nearly total strangers, which included Henry, had risked their lives in a winter storm to save her. She realized that it had been foolish of her to venture out, but then again, she had no idea how quickly the weather could change out here on the plains.

“You think he’s taken shelter?” she asked.

Henry nodded. “Most certainly. He’s probably making himself more than comfortable at the ranch.” He grinned. “These storms are nothing unusual to us out here, and he’ll be safe, I promise.” He paused, seeming to be thinking about something. “I told Sarah that if we weren’t back in town within two hours to send out a search party, but with the change in weather, it’s doubtful that they will—”

Just then the rattle of trace chains and rifle shots shattered the silence. It was then that Winter realized that the howling wind had eased. To her surprise, Henry suddenly loosened the end of the buffalo robe, letting in a blast of frigid air as he stood, dropping one end of the buffalo robe as he reached under his coat for his revolver, which he had tucked into his waistband.

“What are you doing—”

Her ears were left ringing, her nose inhaling the scent of gunpowder as Henry fired off three shots in rapid succession. Soon, the sound of rattling wagon trace chains approached.

“Henry!”

“Down here!” he hollered back. He turned to look at Winter, struggling to rise from her seated position. “Stay there,” he said.

Winter did as she was told and watched as he scrambled up the side of the gully. She heard voices, and then moments later, Henry once again stood before her with a nice looking gentleman beside him.

“William Linder, meet my wife, Winter.”

“Thank God you’re alive,” William commented. “My wife would’ve tanned my hide if we came back to town without you.” He laughed as he slapped Henry’s back.

Henry gazed at his friends with open disapproval. “I don’t know what you were thinking, William. Coming out here to look for us? I thought you were going to take the supplies and stay at the ranch until this blew over?”

Williams shrugged. “I was going to, but something told me that if I headed back into town I would find both of you. Call it intuition, or gut instinct, but I couldn’t just sit at your house and wait.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t,” Henry said, still frowning. “But I’m glad you’re okay. I’m glad we’re all okay.”

Winter stared up at both of them and realized that her near brush with death had changed her outlook on life. She didn’t want to give up and go through the motions of living anymore. She wanted to overcome the tragedy of her past and the disappointment and heartbreak of her former husband’s abuse. She knew it would take some time, but she also realized that Henry was a good man, a faithful man who also understood grief, but hadn’t allowed that grief to turn into a raging anger that swallowed up everything in its path.

“Come on, Winter. Let’s get you into town,” Henry said, reaching down for her.

Between the two men, they managed to get her onto her feet. She was still too weak to walk, so, much to her surprise, Henry swept her up into his arms. William gathered the buffalo robe and Henry’s horse and followed Henry up the slope to his wagon.

Henry dusted off some snow, then lifted Winter into the back of the wagon. Then he climbed in and sat beside her as William handed them the robe. While Henry gathered the robe closer around them, William tied Henry’s mare to the back of the wagon and then climbed into the wagon seat.

“The other mare,” Winter said, her voice raised in alarm. “The mare I rode. What about her? She’ll die out here!”

William glanced down at her over his shoulder. “No need to worry about that, Winter. She already made it into town. She’s in the stable now, filling her belly with hay and grain.”

Winter had never been so relieved in her life. She’d been saved! Even the mare would be all right. Henry had come looking for her, even though he barely knew her. Henry, his friend, and his friend’s wife had cared enough about her to come looking. She felt blessed, and sent up a silent prayer of thanks to God for giving her life new hope.

She knew she could start over if she just gave this place and this man a new chance. She would never forget her little boy, and she would probably never get over her grief, but she knew now that she could survive it.

By the time they rode into town, the blizzard was in full swing. In fact, the snow had now reached the hubcaps of the wagon. William quickly pulled the wagon up behind the Mercantile that he and his wife owned. Before the horses came to a halt, the back door opened and the worried face of a red-haired woman gazed out, her eyes wide with alarm.

“Oh, thank God!” she exclaimed as she looked first at her husband, and then at Henry and Winter bundled up in the buffalo robe. “You found them!”

By morning, the storm had passed. Nearly two feet of snow lay on the ground, but the town was alive and bustling. Homeowners and business owners were busy shoveling snow and two townspeople, riding on horseback, dragged old, rusty bedsprings behind them, doing their best to clear the snow off the main streets.