She stared toward the trees.
"What?"
"Anything."
She thought for a moment.
"I hate turnips."
I laughed.
"That all?"
"And men who whistle while chewing."
"That's a mighty specific objection."
"My uncle did both."
I nodded.
"Sounds like a dangerous fellow."
Her lips twitched.
Then her eyes closed again.
"Josephine."
She didn't answer.
I leaned toward her.
"Stay with me."
Her eyelids fluttered.
"I'm here."
"Good. Tell me something else."
She swallowed.
"I like roses."
I looked toward the trail.
"Not many roses up here."
"Then you'll have to find something else pretty."
I glanced at her.
Even with snow in her hair and fear in her eyes, she was trying to be brave.
For reasons I couldn't explain, that made my chest ache.
"Reckon I already have," I muttered.
She didn't seem to hear me.
Copper continued pulling.
And slowly, painfully, we made our way toward the cabin.
The bay mare survived the afternoon.
That surprised me more than anything.
After securing Josephine's sled near the cabin, I returned with another horse and a heavy blanket, gave the exhausted animal a chance to recover, and carefully guided her onto the safer section of trail. She was weak but able to stand after resting, and I brought her into the stable beside Copper before nightfall.
The storm nearly took us all.
By the time I secured the stable doors, the wind was shaking the roof and snow was piling against the cabin walls.
Inside, Josephine sat in the broad wooden compartment I'd positioned near the fireplace.
She was shivering less now.
But her hands remained dangerously cold.
I heated water, prepared blankets, and helped her warm gradually while keeping the stove steady. I provided privacy as she removed wet outer layers and changed into dry clothing from the trunk that had survived the wreck.
Her mobility was limited by the size of the space and the exhaustion of the journey, so we discussed each movement before attempting it. I reinforced the nearby platform and arranged a wide, stable place where she could rest safely without having to navigate the cabin's narrow furniture.
It was past midnight when she finally settled beneath the blankets.
I placed a cup of warm broth within reach.
"Drink slowly."
She studied me.
"You always give orders like that?"
I sat on a wooden stool.
"Only when somebody looks determined to freeze to death in my yard."
She smiled.
Then took a careful sip.