She looked astonished.
“You did?”
He smiled sadly.
“I was just too frightened.”
She laughed through tears.
Then she touched his face again.
“Are you still frightened?”
He nodded.
“Terribly.”
Her smile softened.
“So am I.”
He leaned his forehead against hers.
“Then we'll be frightened together.”
Outside, the storm battered the mountains.
Inside, two lonely people held each other beside the fire.
Neither knew what spring would bring.
Neither knew whether the damaged roof would survive the night.
Neither knew how their complicated lives could eventually fit together.
But for the first time in years, both understood something simple.
They no longer wanted to face tomorrow alone.
By morning, the blizzard had buried the lower half of the cabin windows.
The rancher woke to a strange, muffled silence. The wind still moved through the trees, but its fury had diminished enough that he could hear individual branches scraping against the outer walls.
For several seconds, he lay beneath a wool blanket, listening.
Then he remembered where he was.
The woman's cabin.
The reinforced beams.
The old glove.
The kiss beside the fire.
He opened his eyes.
A faint blue light filtered through the snow-covered windows, mixing with the orange glow of the remaining embers.
The woman was sleeping in her broad reinforced chair, surrounded by blankets and cushions. Her chestnut curls had loosened during the night, falling across her shoulders in soft waves.
The rancher watched her.
She looked peaceful.
Not untouched by hardship.
Not free from worry.
But peaceful in a way he had not seen the previous evening.
He remembered the first time he delivered meat to this cabin.
She had been standing near the doorway, looking at him with a mixture of caution and curiosity. He had barely spoken. She offered him bread, and he refused it because accepting would have required staying long enough to eat.
Now he was lying beside her fire after spending the night under her roof.
He smiled faintly.
The change seemed almost impossible.
He sat up carefully.
His back protested.
Sleeping on a floor was easier when a man was twenty.
He stretched his shoulders, then looked toward the damaged roof.
The temporary supports remained in place.
That was encouraging.
But daylight would reveal whether the outer structure had suffered more serious damage.
He rose quietly and added a log to the fire.
The sound woke the woman.
She opened her eyes.
For a moment, she seemed confused.
Then she saw him.
Her expression softened.
“Good morning.”