By afternoon, their boots were soaked.
Neither complained.
When they returned to the barn with the first load, Gideon stopped.
Martha nearly walked into him.
"What?"
He pointed.
A horse stood outside the barn.
A gray horse.
Not theirs.
Its sides were dark with melted snow.
A rope trailed behind it.
Martha's face changed.
"Where did that come from?"
Gideon approached carefully.
The horse was exhausted.
Its head hung low.
There was no rider.
Martha hurried toward the animal.
"Easy."
The horse shied away.
Gideon held out his hand.
"Easy, girl."
The mare stopped.
Martha touched its neck.
Cold.
Too cold.
"She's been out there a long time."
Gideon looked toward the woods.
"Maybe her rider isn't far."
They searched.
Nothing.
No footprints.
No broken sled.
No sign of anyone.
Only the horse.
Martha looked at Gideon.
"We can't leave her."
"I know."
They led the mare into the barn.
Gideon rubbed her down with blankets while Martha warmed water and brought grain.
For the next hour, neither spoke much.
The animal gradually stopped trembling.
When Martha returned with another bucket, she noticed something tied beneath the saddle.
A small canvas bag.
She opened it.
Inside was a child's mitten.
A silver spoon.
And a folded piece of paper.
Martha unfolded it.
There were only six words.
Please get her somewhere warm.
Martha looked at Gideon.
"The horse isn't the one who needs help."
He understood immediately.
They went back outside.
The forest stretched white in every direction.
Gideon stared toward the eastern ridge.
"If someone lost that horse..."
"They may be injured."
"Or buried."
Martha was already reaching for her coat.
Gideon caught her arm.
"You stay here."
She stared at him.
"No."
"Martha."
"No."
"This isn't an argument."
"It is if you're trying to leave me behind."
He hesitated.
She stepped closer.
"You taught me something twenty-one years ago."
"What?"
"That fear doesn't get to decide what we do."
His jaw tightened.
Then he nodded.
"All right."
They took two horses.
The trail was almost invisible.
But the gray mare had come from somewhere.
Gideon followed the faint disturbances in the snow while Martha watched the tree line.
An hour passed.
Then another.
The sun lowered.
Still nothing.
They were nearly ready to turn back when Martha saw something.
A strip of blue cloth caught on a branch.
She pointed.
Gideon dismounted.
He picked it up.
"Coat."
They followed the trail.
Twenty minutes later they found a sled overturned near the creek.
One runner was broken.
There were footprints.
Then the footprints disappeared.