“Wade!”
Adeline dropped into the snow.
His face was nearly colorless.
Ice coated his beard.
Eli Mercer rolled away from him with a groan.
Tobias fell to his knees beside his father.
“Dad!”
Adeline pressed two fingers beneath Wade’s jaw.
Pulse.
Weak.
But there.
“He’s alive.”
Tobias grabbed Wade’s hand.
“Wake up.”
Adeline looked at Eli.
“Can you stand?”
“Maybe.”
“Then stand.”
“My leg—”
“If Wade carried you this far, you can crawl the rest.”
Eli looked ashamed.
He stood.
Between the three of them, they got Wade inside.
Adeline stripped off his frozen coat and boots.
His right hand was dangerously pale.
His clothes were soaked.
She wrapped him in blankets and heated stones near the stove, careful not to put them directly against his skin.
Tobias sat beside him.
“Dad.”
No response.
“Dad, I’ve got Mama’s box.”
Wade’s eyelids moved.
Tobias leaned closer.
“You said you’d come back for it.”
Wade whispered something.
“What?”
“Keep… it warm.”
Tobias laughed and cried at the same time.
Adeline closed her eyes in relief.
Eli sat at the table, shaking.
She turned on him.
“What happened?”
Eli looked toward Wade.
“He saved me.”
“I know what he did. Why were you there?”
Eli swallowed.
“Bell.”
“Say it.”
“Cyrus told us to open the diversion.”
Tobias was listening.
Adeline lowered her voice.
“When?”
“After midnight.”
“Why during the storm?”
“He said if the water ran onto Bell land long enough, he’d have proof of use.”
“You knew that was my water.”
“Yes.”
“You knew people lived here.”
Eli looked down.
“Yes.”
Adeline wanted to strike him.
Instead she asked, “Who cut the guide rope last week?”
Eli’s face changed.
“That wasn’t me.”
“Who?”
“Cal.”
“Under whose order?”
Silence.
“Eli.”
“Bell.”
Adeline stared at him.
“What about Joel’s agreement?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I swear.”
He rubbed his face.
“I heard Cyrus talking to his bookkeeper. Said Joel signed enough paper that nobody could prove what was written before or after.”
Adeline’s blood went cold.
“His bookkeeper has records?”
“Maybe.”
“Where’s Cal?”
Eli looked toward the window.
“Downstream.”
“Alive?”
“I don’t know.”
Wade stirred.
“Gate.”
Adeline went to him.
“What?”
“Didn’t close.”
His eyes opened slightly.
“I chose Eli.”
Eli looked away.
Adeline touched Wade’s shoulder.
“You chose correctly.”
“The water—”
“Forget the water.”
“No.”
“Wade.”
“If gate stays open—”
“You nearly froze to death.”
“I know.”
“You are impossible.”
His eyes found hers.
“You knew that.”
Then he passed out again.
The storm lasted another full day.
Nobody could reach the creek.
They melted snow for the sheep.
Carried buckets along the remaining guide rope.
The new lamb survived.
So did the roof.
So did the flock.
Barely.
Eli helped despite his injured leg.
He carried water.
Turned bedding.
Fed the stove.
Tobias avoided him.
On the third morning, the wind finally weakened.
The world outside had changed.
Snowdrifts reached the windows.
Fence posts vanished beneath white.
The barn roof looked like a hill.
But the sky had returned.
Blue.
Painfully bright.
Wade tried to stand.
Adeline pushed him back.
“No.”
“I need to check—”
“No.”
“Adeline.”
“You have two choices.”
He waited.
“Stay in that bed willingly, or I tie you to it.”
Eli coughed to hide a laugh.
Wade looked at him.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
Adeline pointed at Eli.
“You too. Sit.”
Eli sat.
She and Tobias went outside.
The shed stood.
The eastern door opened.
Fresh air moved through Wade’s baffle.
The sheep were hungry but alive.
Adeline put her hand against the support made from the old door.
It had held.
Everything Wade had changed had held.
The vent.
The water line.
The roof braces.
The guide stakes.
Not perfectly.
But enough.
Winter had tested his work.
And his work had stayed.
At noon, riders appeared.
Hyram Cobb.
Netty Doss.
Sheriff Amos Reed.
And Cyrus Bell.
Adeline saw Cyrus and felt fury rise.
The sheriff dismounted.
“Heard Mercer might be here.”
Eli stepped onto the porch.
Cyrus’s face tightened.
“There you are.”
Eli stared at him.
“You left us.”
Cyrus scoffed.
“You chose to ride.”
“You ordered us.”
“I told you to check the diversion.”
“You told us to open it.”
Sheriff Reed looked at Cyrus.
“Did he?”
“No.”
Eli limped down the steps.
“You said the storm would cover the tracks.”
Cyrus’s eyes hardened.
“You’re confused.”
“I’m not.”
“You nearly froze.”
“Because you sent us out.”
Cyrus looked toward Adeline.
“This is ridiculous.”
She stepped off the porch.
“Did you cut my guide rope?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your man does.”
Cyrus looked at Eli.
“You’d better think carefully.”
Eli laughed bitterly.
“That what you told Joel too?”
Adeline froze.
“What?”
Eli seemed to realize he had said too much.
Cyrus’s expression became dangerous.
“Enough.”
Adeline stepped closer.
“What did you tell Joel?”
Eli looked at her.
“I don’t know everything.”
“Tell me what you know.”
Cyrus mounted.
“We’re leaving.”
Sheriff Reed caught his bridle.
“No, you’re not.”
Cyrus stared at him.
“Take your hand off my horse.”
“Not until I hear this.”
Eli swallowed.
“Joel owed Bell money.”
Adeline nodded.
“I know.”
“He was going to sell a strip along the creek.”
Her face changed.
“No.”
“Not the ranch. Just access.”
Cyrus interrupted.
“He signed it.”
Eli shook his head.
“Not what you showed her.”
Silence.
Adeline’s voice became quiet.
“What did he sign?”
“A debt extension.”
Cyrus cursed.
Eli continued.
“Joel said he’d repay after spring lambing. He never agreed to give up permanent water.”
Adeline felt dizzy.
“How do you know?”
“I was there once when they argued.”
Cyrus dismounted.
“You drunken fool.”
Sheriff Reed stepped between them.
“Easy.”
Eli pointed at Cyrus.
“He told his bookkeeper after Joel died that a widow wouldn’t know one contract from another.”
Adeline stared at Cyrus.
For two years she had blamed Joel.
Not entirely.
But enough.
She had believed her husband had hidden one final betrayal.
Maybe he had hidden debt.
But not the water.
Not the ranch.
Cyrus had used a dead man’s silence against his widow.
“Where is the original?” Sheriff Reed asked.
Eli shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Cyrus smiled.
“Then this is gossip.”
Hyram stepped forward.
“Not entirely.”
Everyone looked at him.
He removed a folded paper from his coat.
“County clerk has a recorded copy of Joel’s debt extension.”
Cyrus’s face changed.
Hyram continued.
“I checked after you started asking questions about diversion rights.”
Adeline took the paper.
The language was clear.
Loan extension.
No permanent water transfer.
No seasonal diversion clause.
Cyrus recovered quickly.
“Recorded copy could predate an amendment.”
“Then produce the amendment,” Sheriff Reed said.
“I will.”
“Until then, you stay off Shaw water.”
Cyrus’s eyes moved to Adeline.
“This isn’t finished.”
She stepped toward him.
“Yes, it is.”
“You think a piece of paper saves this place?”
“No.”
She looked toward the farmhouse window where Wade was watching.
“People did.”
Cyrus followed her gaze.
His expression darkened.
“Colton won’t stay.”
Adeline said nothing.
“He never does.”
Wade heard that through the glass.
And something inside him tightened.
Because Cyrus had found the one threat Adeline could not answer for him.
That night, after everyone left except Eli, Adeline sat beside Wade.
“You knew I went looking for you?”
“I heard you.”
“You called me Addie.”
His eyes opened.
“Did I?”
“Yes.”
“Must’ve been freezing.”
She almost smiled.
“Coward.”
“Probably.”
She changed the cloth around his hand.
His fingers had regained color.
“You carried a man who helped steal my water.”
“He was dying.”
“I know.”
“I couldn’t leave him.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I know who you are now.”
Wade became still.
Adeline looked at him.
“I was wrong when you came here.”
“About what?”
“I thought you wanted a meal.”
“I did.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You wanted Tobias safe.”
“That’s different.”
“It is.”
Wade looked toward the doorway.
Tobias was asleep beside the stove again, wrapped in the same wool blanket from their first night.
“He’s better here.”
“Yes.”
The words came too quickly.
Wade looked at her.
Adeline did not take them back.
“So are you,” she added.
Silence.
Wade’s voice lowered.
“Addie.”
Her heart shifted at the name.
“I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Stay somewhere.”
She looked at him.
“Then learn.”
He almost smiled.
“You make everything sound like repairing a roof.”
“Roofs are simpler.”
“That they are.”
She leaned closer.
For a moment, it seemed they might kiss.
Then Tobias spoke from the doorway.
“Are you going somewhere?”
They separated.
Wade looked at his son.
“No.”
Tobias held Sarah’s mending kit against his chest.
“Ever?”
Wade could not answer.
The boy’s expression changed immediately.
Adeline saw it.
Tomorrow becoming uncertain again.
“Toby—”
The child ran upstairs.
Wade closed his eyes.
Adeline stood.
“Go to him.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Tell him the truth.”
“The truth is I don’t know what happens in spring.”
“Then tell him that.”
Wade looked at her.
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“What do I tell you?”
Adeline’s throat tightened.
“The same thing.”
He went upstairs.
But later that night, when Adeline checked the kitchen, she found something on the table.
Sarah’s mending kit.
Inside was a folded piece of paper.
Wade’s handwriting.
A list.
Not a goodbye.
Jobs remaining before spring.
Repair south fence.
Rehang barn door.
Replace pump seal.
Build lambing pens.
At the bottom, one final line:
Teach Tobias that tomorrow can be trusted.
Adeline touched the words.
Then she noticed something else.
A second piece of paper beneath the first.
An offer from Hyram Cobb.
A railroad repair crew near Denver needed an experienced foreman.
Steady wages.
Housing.
Starting in March.
Wade had been offered a way out.
And he had not told her.