And somehow she became stronger.
Not physically.
Not suddenly.
She still worked.
But differently.
She let Gideon carry the largest sacks.
She used sled for water.
She sat when knees hurt.
She asked for help repairing a harness rather than struggling for an hour.
The surprising part was that Gideon changed too.
He stopped testing.
Stopped warning constantly.
Instead he asked.
“Going to barn?”
“Yes.”
“Want company?”
“No.”
“All right.”
Sometimes she did want company.
She learned saying yes did not make her less capable.
Christmas passed quietly.
Gideon gave Adelaide a pair of lined gloves.
No romantic meaning.
But he had noticed her hands.
She gave him a ledger book.
He looked disappointed.
“Gift?”
“You need one.”
“Terrible.”
“I already entered November expenses.”
“Cruel woman.”
She smiled.
It was the first time since Amos.
January arrived with warning.
The pressure dropped.
Birds vanished.
Gideon spent one entire day reinforcing barn.
By evening snow started.
Not flakes.
Sheets.
The storm lasted one day.
Then two.
Then three.
On third morning, one section of fence disappeared beneath drifting snow.
A pine crashed near barn.
Cattle bellowed.
Gideon put on coat.
Adelaide blocked door.
“No.”
He frowned.
“Tree hit north fence.”
“Then cattle can stay barn.”
“If fence collapses, lower herd could break.”
“Visibility is twenty yards.”
“I know ridge.”
“So did Abigail.”
The words stopped him.
Adelaide immediately regretted cruelty.
But not warning.
Gideon looked toward window.
Then at her.
“You’re right.”
Relief hit.
Then they heard wood crack outside.
A mule screamed.
Gideon moved.
“The lean-to.”
Adelaide grabbed coat.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed.
Gideon corrected instantly.
“Would you?”
“Yes.”
They went together.
Wind nearly knocked Adelaide sideways.
Snow reached thigh.
They tied rope from cabin to barn.
Worked as team.
One mule had broken loose.
They guided inside.
A roof support cracked.
Gideon braced.
Adelaide dragged timber.
They repaired enough.
Then Gideon saw a cow beyond fence.
“She got out.”
“Leave her.”
“She’ll freeze.”
“Gideon.”
He looked.
“I can reach.”
“Rope.”
He tied.
Adelaide held other end from barn.
Gideon disappeared into white.
Ten yards.
Fifteen.
Rope moved.
Then stopped.
Adelaide waited.