Her reinforced bed stood there.
It was too large and heavy to move quickly.
And her mobility made an emergency relocation more complicated than it would be for someone who could simply run across the room.
She took a slow breath.
“All right.”
The rancher looked toward her.
He expected fear.
He saw concentration.
She pointed toward a heavy interior beam.
“The central posts were reinforced when the cabin was built. The wall beyond the pantry is stronger.”
He studied the structure.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded.
“I know every timber in this house.”
He looked toward the ceiling again.
Another creak sounded.
He made a decision.
“Then we move to the center of the cabin.”
She nodded.
Using the rails she'd installed, she began making her way toward the central area.
The rancher moved beside her.
He offered his arm.
She accepted it.
Their progress was slow.
Her enormous weight placed considerable demands on her joints and breathing, especially when she needed to move quickly.
But she knew how to pace herself.
She understood where to place her hands.
And she refused to panic.
The rancher matched her pace.
He did not pull.
He did not rush her.
He simply stayed beside her, ready to support her balance when needed.
By the time they reached the central seating area, both were breathing harder.
Another crack sounded above them.
The rancher looked toward the roof.
“I need to get that branch off.”
She immediately shook her head.
“Not in this wind.”
“If it keeps pressing on the roof—”
“You'll get killed climbing up there.”
He stared.
She continued.
“We can reinforce the inside. Then wait for the wind to ease.”
He looked toward the supporting beams.
She pointed toward a storage compartment.
“There are spare posts beneath the floor hatch. My husband cut them years ago.”
The rancher considered the situation.
The roof was under strain.
But climbing onto it during a blizzard would be extremely dangerous.
He looked back at her.
“Show me.”
She directed him toward the compartment.
Inside were several lengths of heavy timber, wooden wedges, rope, and a small block-and-tackle assembly used for lifting supplies.
The rancher stared.
“You've got a whole carpenter's shop hidden under here.”
She smiled faintly.
“Living alone teaches a person to prepare.”
He lifted one of the posts.
Then another.
He carried them toward the damaged area.
The woman remained in the safer central section, watching the ceiling and giving directions based on her knowledge of the cabin.