She swallowed.
"What if there isn't?"
"Then we'll find another way to survive."
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Clara reached across the table.
Her fingers touched his.
He turned his hand beneath hers.
The gesture was small.
But the warmth between them made her heart ache.
"Come home," she whispered.
Caleb's expression softened.
He closed his fingers around her hand.
"I intend to."
She looked at him.
"That's not a promise you can make."
He nodded slowly.
"No."
He lifted her hand.
Held it carefully.
Then said, "But I promise I won't take foolish risks just to look brave."
Clara blinked away tears.
"That'll do."
The rescue party left just after sunrise.
Caleb rode a sturdy dark-brown mountain horse named Alder.
Two experienced men accompanied him.
One was Daniel Finch, whose son had first spotted the wagons.
The other was a former miner named Jonas Bell, Martha's nephew, who knew the old Widow's Ridge trail.
They carried ropes, blankets, medical supplies, food, and signal flags.
Their first goal was contact.
Their second was bringing the stranded teamsters to safety if the route permitted.
Moving freight was a distant third.
Clara watched them leave from the edge of the churchyard.
Snow fell lightly.
The mountains stood cold and immense beyond the settlement.
Caleb turned once in the saddle.
His gaze found hers.
He lifted one hand.
Clara raised hers.
Then he disappeared between the pines.
She stood there long after the horses were gone.
Martha Bell approached.
"Cold, dear?"
Clara shook her head.
"Not yet."
Martha studied her.
Then looked toward the trail.
"That man thinks very highly of you."
Clara felt her cheeks warm.
"He's a good neighbor."
Martha laughed softly.
"Of course."
Clara looked at her.
"What?"
"Nothing."
The older woman smiled.
"Just remembering what good neighbors looked like when I was thirty-two."
Clara rolled her eyes.
But she could not quite hide her smile.
The first real crisis came that afternoon.
A little boy named Benjamin Ellis developed a high fever.
He was seven, small for his age, and had spent the previous night coughing beneath a borrowed quilt.
His mother brought him to Clara's cabin because the stove there was warmer than the one at the church.
Clara helped make him comfortable.
His breathing concerned her.
The settlement's doctor, Dr. Samuel Avery, had been visiting a ranch beyond the southern creek when the storm closed the road.
Nobody knew whether he could return.
Clara did not pretend to know medicine she had never studied.
She asked the boy's mother what symptoms she had noticed.
Then sent Thomas Reed to locate anyone who might be able to reach the doctor safely.
Meanwhile, she kept Benjamin warm without overheating him, offered small amounts of water as he could tolerate them, and watched for changes in his breathing.
His mother sat beside him, frightened.
"Will he be all right?"
Clara knelt near the bed.
"I don't know yet."
The woman began crying.