Stands a Calder Man (Calder Saga 2)

et and I’ll fill it before I go, just in case I don’t get back.” He picked up his heavy, wool-lined jacket and shrugged into it.

He couldn’t help thinking that if he hadn’t come here, he’d be sitting snug and cozy in the line shack instead of venturing out into this subzero weather with a blizzard on the way. He’d be better off there, and Webb wasn’t concerned about the risks of going out in such weather when he thought that. It was the risk he was taking when he came back, as he knew he would, with or without her husband. He cursed the weakness in him that wouldn’t let him stay away from this woman.

When he was all bundled up in his heavy winter gear, Lilli gave him the coal bucket. Without a word, he walked to the door and took hold of the latchstring. He faltered for a second, then pulled the door open with an impatient jerk and pushed himself outside, shutting the door quickly.

The cold and the whirling snow hit him, bringing him up short for a second. The thickening gray clouds were creating a premature darkness, stealing much of what was left of the afternoon. Webb moved briskly to the side of the shack where the coal was piled and filled the bucket, brushing off the snow that had collected on the black chunks.

Lilli must have been waiting at the door, because she was standing next to it when he returned with the full bucket. He set it down and turned to leave again, but the tense silence needed to be broken. He couldn’t just walk out without saying something.

His hand was on the latchstring and he looked at the door, his head tipped down as he spoke. “It’s getting dark out there. Keep the lantern turned all the way up so a light shows.”

There was a wretched tearing inside Lilli. Involuntarily, she reached for his arm to keep him with her a second longer. “Webb, be careful.” The anxious words rushed from her before she could stop them.

The downward angle of his head shifted slightly in her direction as he looked at the hand on his coat sleeve. She pulled it away as if she had touched something hot.

“Don’t you mean ‘Mr. Calder’?” The line of his jaw was hard, and his voice had a bitter ring. While she was still groping for a response, Webb was out the door and gone.

The black gelding balked when Webb tried to lead it outside. The horse knew the weather wasn’t fit for man or beast to be in even if its rider didn’t. In the end, the gelding obeyed with its rider’s command, but under protest.

Within minutes after riding out from the yard, the horse and rider were enveloped in the grayness. The snowflakes had turned to pellets, whirling around Webb like white buckshot, stinging and pelting. The wind had picked up, drifting the snow on the ground and reducing the visibility to less than half a mile. There wasn’t much chance of cutting Stefan Reisner’s trail. Between the newly fallen snow and the blowing wind, his tracks would have been covered by now. Webb set a zigzagging course toward some broken country south of Kreuger’s place and west of here. It was about the only area where there was still some wild game to be found. The advent of the drylanders had driven most of it into rougher country where plows had little success.

The man should be on his way back now, if he hadn’t gotten lost. With luck, Webb could intercept him. The black gelding might not like the idea of being ridden double, but that’s what Webb intended—if he found Reisner.

The numbing cold took away all perception of time. It seemed he had been riding through this hell’s freezer for a lifetime. Webb was losing the feeling in his legs and had to keep pounding them with his hand to retain any sensation. He couldn’t feel the cold anymore and knew that was a bad sign. If Reisner hadn’t found shelter, the old man was bound to freeze to death.

The rimrock country was around him when Webb suddenly realized the wind had shifted into the northeast, the thing he’d been both expecting and dreading. How long ago it had changed, he didn’t know. He halted the gelding to quickly orient himself. He was about equal distance from both the Kreuger place and Lilli. There was a good chance Reisner might have gone to his neighbor’s since it was a mile closer. It was possible he had gotten a horse there and ridden back to his place. It would explain why Webb hadn’t seen any sign of him.

He was faced with two choices—either head for Kreuger’s and confirm Stefan Reisner had come that way, or turn around and ride back to Lilli. Now that the storm had hit, he could do one or the other—but not both. He had to get to shelter, and those two were the closest places.

Webb didn’t think about it twice as he reined the gelding around and headed back in a straight line the way he’d come. The black horse agreed with his decision and moved out smartly for the shed it had so reluctantly left. Webb hunched a shoulder to the wind and tucked his chin into his chest, letting his hat break the force of the blowing cold.

By the time the yellow light could be seen shining out of the shanty window, the horse and rider were blanketed with snow. When the gelding stopped at the shed door, Webb tried to dismount and ended up falling out of the saddle, his muscles too cold to function. He flung an arm over the horse’s neck for support until he could get his stiff legs to move.

It was pitch-black inside the shed, but the howling wind couldn’t reach them. Webb leaned against the thin wall of the shed and listened to the rustle of straw stirred by the horses and the inquiring whicker from one of the big mares. They were warm sounds. He gathered his energy and lifted a hand to his mouth, tugging off a glove with his teeth. His fingers were too numb to hold on to a match, let alone strike one to light the lantern by the door. Webb shoved the hand inside his jacket and tucked it up under his armpit to warm it.

Once the lantern was lit, he could see the two Belgian mares standing in crude stalls. The black gelding was standing patiently in the small, closed-off feed area, crusty snow covering its shaggy coat until the animal’s color was unrecognizable. The beef carcass hung eerily in a shadowed corner.

Before he could seek the warmth of the shanty, Webb had to take care of his horse. The stock saddle seemed three times as heavy when he pulled it off the horse, his cold-stiffened muscles finding it awkward to handle the cumbersome weight of it. When he had the gear stripped from the horse, he grabbed handfuls of straw and began rubbing the animal down, wiping off the icy snowcover before the horse’s body heat melted it.

When the gelding was bedded down for the night, a part of Webb wanted to lie down and bury himself in the pile of straw in the corner. But there was a stronger urge that drove him out into the storm and across the intervening space to the shanty.

The storm was raging full force now, the Arctic wind blasting the air from his lungs. Although his memory told him the tar-paper shack was only twenty yards from the corral shed, the driving snow hid it from him. There wasn’t even the gleam of the yellow lantern light to show him the way. Trusting his instincts, Webb forged ahead in the direction he believed it to be. In the back of his mind he knew men had gotten lost and frozen to death five feet away from their door.

15

The wind howled around the one-room shanty, whistling through the smallest crack to send its piercing chill inside. Lilli stirred up the coals in the stove, trying to convince it to send out more heat to combat the increasing drafts. She walked again to the window, wearing a path into the floor, but it was impossible to see outside. Both Stefan and Webb were out there, and she didn’t know which one she was worried about most.

She started back to the stove to stir the bean soup, flavored with salt pork, and make certain the coffee was hot. A blast of wind rattled the flimsy structure, threatening to blow it away. Lilli glanced apprehensively around the room, as if she expected to see some sign of damage from the battering wind. There had been other winter storms, but nothing like this. The wind was so loud she could hardly hear herself think. She knew she’d never hear anyone approaching the house in this storm.

Something fell against the door, startling her. Before she could react, the door popped open and a snowy figure lurched inside and leaned against the door to close it. An angry wind blew its icy, huffing breath into the single r

oom and wrapped its coldness around Lilli. For an instant, the sudden invasion of frigid air held her motionless; then she was running to the snowman in the white-frosted cowboy hat.

“My God, you’re frozen solid, Webb,” she declared in a murmur and began tearing at the ice-encrusted knot of his wool scarf.

His dark eyebrows and spiked lashes were completely caked with snow. Even his normally sun-browned skin looked colorless. Only the black pupils of his eyes continued to shine with life. When she pulled off his scarf, she removed his hat along with it, scattering chunks of melting snow all over herself and the floor. The buttons of his jacket were frozen in their holes. Lilli had to dig them loose with her fingers before she could get his jacket off. He appeared unable to summon the strength to object to Lilli’s removing his outer garments rather than letting him do it.

“Come over by the stove.” She grabbed hold of his arm to help him and felt the coldness of it through the layers of a gray wool shirt and long-sleeved underwear. Webb managed a nod of agreement and accepted her support as he stumbled across the room on leaden legs.