For six years, Nathaniel had complained whenever she asked him to help her into a carriage.
Elias handled her as though her weight presented no difficulty whatsoever.
He adjusted the blanket around her knees.
"Comfortable?"
"As comfortable as one can be while being carried into the wilderness by a stranger."
One corner of his mouth lifted.
"Fair enough."
He took the reins.
Then they entered the storm.
At first, Clara attempted to memorize their route.
A broken pine.
A boulder shaped like a sleeping animal.
A narrow stream buried beneath ice.
But the blizzard swallowed every landmark.
Soon she could see nothing except Elias's broad back and the lantern he carried low beside his leg.
He moved steadily.
Never rushed.
Never looked uncertain.
When the trail became steep, he spoke softly to the horse.
When branches blocked their path, he broke them away.
And when Clara began shivering uncontrollably, he stopped.
"Still with me?"
She nodded.
Her teeth chattered.
He stepped beside the horse.
"Look at me."
She forced her eyes open.
"Clara."
She looked down.
His face was close enough that she could see snow melting in his beard.
"Don't fall asleep."
"I'm tired."
"I know."
"So tired."
He placed one large hand over hers.
"Listen carefully. You can sleep when I'm done with you."
Clara stared at him.
Even through her exhaustion, the words startled her.
"Done with me?"
He immediately seemed to understand how they sounded.
"Done getting you someplace warm," he clarified. "Done drying those stockings and seeing you're fed. Then you can sleep as long as you need."
Clara gave a faint, exhausted laugh.
"You have a terrible way with words."
"Been told that."
"By many women?"
"Not many have stayed long enough to complain."
She looked down at him.
For the first time that night, curiosity pushed through her fear.
"Why not?"
His smile faded.
"Long story."
She leaned slightly forward.
"Then perhaps you'll tell me when we're somewhere warm."
He nodded.
"Perhaps."
He squeezed her hand once.
Then returned to the reins.
"Stay awake, sweetheart. We're nearly there."
The endearment slipped from his mouth naturally.
Clara felt it settle somewhere deep inside her.
She told herself it meant nothing.
A mountain man trying to comfort a half-frozen stranger.
Nothing more.
Yet she remembered the word long after the rest of the journey blurred.
The shelter appeared through the trees as a low, dark shape built into the mountainside.
At first, Clara thought it was merely a pile of stones covered in snow.