The next day should have been easier.
It wasn't.
Storms had a way of leaving their worst problems behind after the wind stopped.
Snow buried every structure.
The cattle pens had vanished beneath drifts.
One barn wall leaned outward.
The bunkhouse was unusable.
Their stored firewood had been reduced to a precious stack guarded more carefully than money.
And thirteen people remained trapped inside one ranch house.
But something fundamental had changed.
They had become a team.
Not because they suddenly liked one another.
Abby was too practical to believe hardship turned every fool into a saint.
Billy still snored.
Tom still cheated at cards.
Wyatt complained about Abby's medicinal tea.
Jeb remained argumentative.
Caleb remained entirely too willing to stand when she ordered him to rest.
But they had stopped behaving like separate people competing for survival.
They now survived together.
That afternoon, Abby opened the cellar.
Nobody rushed forward.
That mattered.
She counted supplies.
"We can increase supper."
Billy's eyes brightened.
"Meat?"
"Some."
He clasped his hands as if receiving divine revelation.
Jeb laughed.
Abby carved salt pork into small cubes.
Then she did something she had refused to do since the storm began.
She made biscuits.
Real biscuits.
Not ration biscuits.
She used precious lard.
More flour.
Even a little preserved milk.
The smell changed the room.
Men stopped speaking.
Wyatt closed his eyes.
"My God."
Abby smiled.
"He's not responsible. I am."
At supper, nobody ate immediately.
Caleb stood.
Abby frowned.
"Sit."
"No."
"You're still sick."
"I know."
He looked around the room.
"I have something to say."
Jeb whispered, "This will be painful."
Caleb ignored him.
"When this started, I thought I was responsible for keeping everyone alive."
He looked at Abby.
"I wasn't."
Abby shifted uncomfortably.
Caleb continued.
"She was."
The men nodded.
"Caleb—"
"No."
His voice softened.
"Let me finish."
Abby crossed her arms.
"You kept the food. Water. Fire. Medicine. You stopped us from killing ourselves with panic."
He smiled faintly.
"And occasionally with stupidity."
Billy raised a hand.
"Mostly Jeb."
"Go to hell," Jeb said.
Laughter.
Caleb's gaze returned to Abby.
"We owe you."
Abby's throat tightened.
She hated public gratitude almost as much as public ridicule.
Both put her in the middle of a room.
"I cooked."
"No," Caleb said.
"You led."
The word startled her.
Leader.
Nobody had ever called Rosalie Higgins that.
Kitchen girl.
Cook.
Big woman.
Abby.
Never leader.
She looked around.
Twelve men watched her.
Not one was laughing.
Abby picked up her biscuit.
"Food's getting cold."
Caleb smiled.
"Yes, ma'am."
They ate.
For ten minutes, Iron Creek almost felt normal.
Then the cattle began bawling.
At first distant.
Then frantic.
Caleb stood.
"Something's wrong."
Abby listened.
Cattle often complained.
This sounded different.
"They're trapped."
Tom looked toward the window.
"Snow fence collapsed."
"If they can't move, they'll freeze."
Jeb said, "Or suffocate under drift."
Caleb looked outside.
Visibility was improving.
Cold remained brutal.
"We have to reach them tomorrow."
Abby knew he was right.
Cattle were not merely property.
They were the ranch's future.
Without them, Harlan Cole lost Iron Creek.
Without Iron Creek, every man in the room lost his livelihood.
Including her.
"We go at first light," Caleb said.
"You don't," Abby replied.
He sighed.
"This again?"
"Your fever."
"Broken."
"Your cough?"
"Better."
"Cough."
"No."
"Coward."
He coughed.
Still rough.
Abby shook her head.
Jeb said, "I'll lead."
Caleb looked at him.
"You've got an injured leg."
"I can walk."
"So can I."
Abby groaned.
"Wonderful. I'm surrounded by heroes."
Billy raised his hand.
"I have no desire to be heroic."
"Good. You're promoted."
At dawn, they went out.
Not Abby.
She remained with Wyatt and Eddie, whose toes were badly frostbitten.
The others tied themselves in pairs.
They carried shovels.
Axes.
Rope.
Caleb stood at the door.
Abby adjusted his scarf.
"You're going despite everything I said."
"Yes."
"I dislike you."
"No, you don't."
Her hands stopped.
Caleb's eyes softened.
"Come back."
"I promised."
"Keep it."
He nodded.
They disappeared.
Hours passed.
Abby kept busy.
Soup.
Bandages.
Fire.
Cleaning.
Anything to avoid staring out the window.
At noon, men returned carrying a ranch hand named Nathan who had not been in the kitchen during the storm.
Abby had assumed everyone outside was dead.
Nathan had survived in a hayloft.
Barely.
His feet were badly frozen.
His face cracked from cold.
He whispered, "Two others."
Caleb leaned close.
"Where?"
"South shed."
"Alive?"
"Yesterday."
Caleb looked at the men.
Abby knew before he spoke.
"No."
He turned.
"Abby—"
"No."
"We can't leave them."
"You've been out four hours."
"They may be alive."
"And you may die finding them."
His expression hardened.
"So we do nothing?"
Abby's anger rose.
"No. We think."
"We don't have time."
"You don't know that."
"Exactly."
The room became tense.
It was their first true disagreement.
Caleb grabbed rope.
Abby caught his arm.
"You are not walking back into that cold exhausted."
"Then who?"
Jeb stepped forward.
"Me."
Billy joined him.
"Me too."
Then Tom.
Caleb looked at Abby.
She released him.
"You get one hour."
Caleb shook his head.
"Two."
"One."
"An hour isn't enough."
"Then ninety minutes."
He almost smiled.
"Negotiating during emergencies?"
"I learned from stubborn men."
They left.
Abby watched the clock.
Ninety minutes.
No sign.
Two hours.
Nothing.
Three.
She could no longer pretend calm.
Jeb finally appeared.
Supporting Billy.
Then Tom.
No Caleb.
Abby pushed past them.
"Where?"
Jeb looked devastated.
"He found them."
"Alive?"
"One."
"Caleb?"
"He sent us back."
Abby's face emptied.
"He what?"
"He stayed with the other man. Couldn't move him alone."
Abby put on her coat.
Jeb blocked her.
"No."
"Move."
"Abby—"
"Move."
"I'll go."
"Your leg—"
"I'll go."
She stared at him.
Jeb looked her directly in the eyes.
"Trust me."
The sentence carried weight.
Days earlier she would not have trusted him with a spoon.
Now she nodded.
Jeb left with Tom.
Abby waited.
Every minute became an hour.
Then came shouting outside.
The door opened.
Tom entered first.
Jeb second.
Between them they carried a nearly unconscious ranch hand.
Then Caleb stumbled in behind them.
Abby rushed to him.
He smiled weakly.
"Kept my promise."
She slapped him.
The room went silent.
Caleb blinked.
"That was unexpected."
Then Abby grabbed his coat and kissed him.
It was not graceful.
It was not delicate.
It was furious.
Terrified.
Brief.
When she released him, nobody moved.
Billy's mouth hung open.
Jeb looked delighted.
Caleb stared at Abby.
She realized what she had done.
Her face turned scarlet.
"Nobody."
She pointed around the room.
"Says."
She pointed again.
"One."
Another finger.
"Word."
Billy immediately looked at the ceiling.
Jeb examined his boots.
Tom turned around.
Caleb smiled.
Abby glared.
"Especially you."
"I didn't say anything."
"Your face is saying plenty."
He leaned closer.
"Can I say something privately?"
"No."
"Later?"
"No."
"Tomorrow?"
"Possibly."
His smile widened.
Abby walked away.
Behind her, twelve exhausted men suddenly found reasons to cough.
But beneath the embarrassment came something Abby had not allowed herself to feel in ten years.
Hope.
Not because Caleb had defended her.
Not because he looked at her differently.
Because when she kissed him, he had not been surprised by her desire.
Only by her timing.
And when his hand briefly touched the back of hers afterward, it did not feel like pity.
It felt like an answer.