And for the first time in years, he stepped into the mountain darkness knowing someone was waiting for him to return.
The storm swallowed him almost immediately.
Snow whipped against his face as he pulled the door shut behind him. The rope stretched between his gloved hand and the heavy beam inside the cabin, giving him a dependable line back through the whiteout.
He had crossed mountain ridges in worse weather.
At least, he liked telling himself he had.
But the truth was that the older he became, the less interested he was in proving he could survive foolish decisions.
Tonight, the thought of the woman waiting inside made him more careful than any fear of freezing.
He followed the rope to the stable.
The horse stood beneath the timber roof, restless but unharmed, its ears flicking toward the roaring wind.
The rancher checked the animal's water, added feed, and examined the stable door for snow buildup.
Then he noticed that one of the supporting boards along the outer wall had begun splitting.
He frowned.
The wind was hitting the small structure from an unusual angle, driving snow through gaps that had been harmless during ordinary storms.
He retrieved a length of timber from a stack near the wall and braced the damaged section.
It wasn't a permanent repair.
But it would help until daylight.
He then returned to the rope.
For a moment, he could see nothing but swirling snow.
The cabin itself had disappeared.
He gripped the line and began moving carefully.
Each step sank into the growing drifts.
The wind pressed against his shoulder.
Then, through the white, he saw a faint light.
An oil lantern.
The woman had placed it in the window nearest the door.
He smiled despite the cold.
When he reached the threshold, he found her waiting inside.
She stood beside the reinforced rail, one hand resting against it and the other holding a thick wool blanket.
The moment he opened the door, her expression changed from anxiety to relief.
“You came back.”
He shut the door.
“Told you I would.”
She looked at the snow covering his shoulders.
“You look like a walking snowbank.”
He laughed.
“I've been called worse.”
She held out the blanket.
“Get those wet things off before you freeze.”
He obeyed.
As he removed his coat, he noticed that she kept watching his face.
He looked toward her.
“What?”
She shook her head.
“Nothing.”
He smiled.
“You've got a terrible habit of saying nothing when you mean something.”