These Happy Golden Years (Little House 8)

Laura’s heart sank. Then they had come only six miles. There were still six miles to go. They went on swiftly against the cutting wind. In spite of all she could do, Laura shook all over. Pressing her knees tight together did not stop their shaking. The lantern beside her feet under the fur robes seemed to give no warmth. The pains bored into her temples, and a knot of pain tightened in her middle.

It seemed a long time before the horses slowed again, and again Almanzo stopped them. The bells rang out, first Prince’s, then Lady’s. Almanzo was clumsy, getting into the cutter again.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

She was growing more used to the cold. It did not hurt so much. Only the pain in her middle kept tightening, but it was duller. The sound of the wind and the bells and the cutter’s runners on the snow all blended into one monotonous sound, rather pleasant. She knew when Almanzo left the cutter to thaw the ice from the horses’ noses again but everything seemed like a dream.

“All right?” he asked. She nodded. It was too much trouble to speak.

“Laura!” he said, taking hold of her shoulder and shaking her a little. The shaking hurt; it made her feel the cold again. “You sleepy?”

“A little,” she answered.

“Don’t go to sleep. You hear me?”

“I won’t,” she said. She knew what he meant. If you go to sleep in such cold, you freeze to death.

The horses stopped again. Almanzo asked, “Making it all right?”

“Yes.” she said. He went to take the ice from the horses’ noses. When he came back he said, “It’s not far now.”

She knew he wanted her to answer. She said, “That’s good.”

Sleepiness kept coming over her in long, warm waves, though she was holding her eyes wide open. She shook her head and took burning gulps of air, and struggled awake, but another wave of sleepiness came, and another. Often when she was too tired to struggle any longer, Almanzo’s voice helped her. She heard him ask, “All right?”

“Yes,” she said, and for a moment she would be awake; she heard the sleigh bells clearly and felt the wind blowing. Then another wave came.

“Here we are!” she heard him say.

“Yes,” she answered. Then suddenly she knew that they were at the back door of home. The wind was not so strong here; its force was broken by the building on the other side of Second Street. Almanzo lifted the robes and she tried to get out of the cutter, but she was too stiff; she could not stand up.

The door flashed open, and Ma took hold of her, exclaiming, “My goodness! are you frozen?”

“I’m afraid she’s pretty cold,” Almanzo said.

“Get those horses into shelter before they freeze,” Pa said. “We’ll take care of her.”

The sleigh bells dashed away, while with Pa and Ma holding her arms, Laura stumbled into the kitchen.

“Take off her shoes, Carrie,” Ma said as she peeled off Laura’s veil and knitted woolen hood. The frost of her breath had frozen the veil to the hood and they came away together. “Your face is red,” Ma said in relief. “I’m thankful it isn’t white and frozen.”

“I’m only numb,” Laura said. Her feet were not frozen, either, though she could hardly feel Pa’s hands rubbing them. Now in the warm room she began to shake from head to foot and her teeth chattered. She sat close by the stove while she drank the hot ginger tea that Ma made for her. But she could not get warm.

She had been cold so long, ever since she got out of bed that morning. In the Brewsters’ cold kitchen her place at the table was farthest from the stove and near the window. Then came the long walk through the snow to school, with the wind blowing against her and whirling up under her skirts; the long, cold day in the schoolhouse, and then the long ride home. But there was nothing to complain of, for now she was at home.

“You took a long chance, Laura,” Pa said soberly. “I did not know that Wilder was starting until he had gone, and then I was sure he’d stay at Brewster’s. It was forty below zero when that crazy fellow started, and the thermometer froze soon afterward. It has been steadily growing colder ever since; there’s no telling how cold it is now.”

“All’s well that ends well, Pa,” Laura answered him with a shaky laugh.

It seemed to her that she never would get warm. But it was wonderful to eat supper in the happy kitchen, and then to sleep safely in her own bed. She woke to find the weather moderating; at breakfast Pa said that the temperature was near twenty below zero. The cold snap was over.

In church that Sunday morning Laura thought how foolish she had been to let herself be so miserable and frightened. There were only two weeks more, and then she could come home to stay.

While Almanzo was driving her out to the Brewsters’ that afternoon she thanked him for taking her home that week.

“No need for thanks,” he said. “You knew I would.”