"Thank God."
The figure disappeared.
Then returned holding a blue cloth.
The signal moved slowly through the cold air.
Caleb raised the red flag again.
They could not hear one another over the distance.
But they could exchange simple signs.
Eventually, the teamster lifted three fingers.
Then pointed toward the wagons.
Three men.
At least three alive.
Caleb looked toward his companions.
"We need to learn whether anybody's hurt."
Daniel glanced toward the blocked passage.
"How?"
Jonas studied the ridge.
Then pointed toward a narrow line of trees farther south.
"There's an old mining spur. Might give us a better approach."
Caleb looked carefully.
The route was longer.
But it avoided the steepest face.
He nodded.
"We'll inspect it. No crossing unless it's sound."
They turned their horses.
Above them, a low rumble moved through the mountains.
All three men stopped.
For a moment, the sound resembled distant thunder.
Then snow spilled from the ridge they had just refused to cross.
A pale cloud rushed downward.
Loose snow carried branches and stones into the ravine.
The men watched from the sheltered outcrop.
Nobody spoke.
When the movement finally stopped, Daniel looked toward Caleb.
His face had gone white.
"We'd have been right there."
Caleb stared at the fresh slide.
Then answered quietly.
"Yes."
He thought of Clara.
Her hand in his.
Her voice asking him to come home.
He took a slow breath.
Then turned toward the horses.
"We do this carefully, or we don't do it at all."
Back in Pine Hollow, Clara's inventory work uncovered a new problem.
Some of the supplies recorded by households were not actually available.
A sack of oats had become wet.
A barrel of potatoes had started spoiling.
Several families had overestimated their flour because they counted containers without checking how much remained.
Clara revised the figures.
The result frightened her.
They had less food than they thought.
She sat at the table, studying the notebook.
Hester Pike entered carrying a small covered bowl.
"How's the Ellis boy?"
"Still ill."
Hester nodded.
"My granddaughter's much better."
Clara smiled tiredly.
"I'm glad."
The older woman placed the bowl on the table.
"Some dried apples and a little honey. Thought it might help the children."
"Thank you."
Hester watched Clara turn a page.
"What are you doing?"
"Counting."
"Still?"
Clara nodded.
"I don't like the numbers."
Hester pulled out a chair.
"How bad?"
Clara hesitated.
Then showed her.
Hester studied the figures.
Her face changed.
"Oh."