"Now I think I was wrong."
Tears filled Clara's eyes.
She stepped closer.
He stopped walking.
The lantern swung gently between them.
She looked into his face.
Then whispered, "You don't have to be alone."
Caleb swallowed.
His hand tightened gently around hers.
For a moment, he seemed unable to speak.
Then he asked softly, "May I kiss you?"
Clara felt her heart stop.
She looked at him.
Snow glittered on the trees.
The lantern illuminated his rugged face.
His beard was streaked with silver.
His eyes held no mockery.
Only hope.
She smiled through tears.
"Yes."
Caleb bent toward her.
Their lips met gently.
The kiss was brief.
Careful.
Almost shy.
When they parted, Clara rested one hand against his chest.
He looked at her.
"Was that all right?"
She laughed softly.
"Yes."
A broad smile appeared beneath his beard.
"Good."
Clara looked toward the cabin.
Then back at him.
"Caleb?"
"Yes?"
She smiled.
"You may do that again."
He laughed.
Then kissed her once more.
And for a few precious moments, the frozen road, the blocked pass, and the uncertain food supply seemed distant.
Two people stood beneath the Colorado stars, discovering that the same winter which threatened everything familiar might also be giving them something neither had expected.
Love.
January brought the coldest weather anyone in Pine Hollow could remember.
The morning air cut through wool and fur.
Frost formed on the inside of poorly sealed windows.
Water buckets froze if left too far from the stove.
And the mountains became pale walls of ice beneath a sky so clear it seemed almost cruel.
The settlement continued rationing carefully.
The last freight loads came through the upper route during a short period of stable weather.
Then fresh snow closed it again.
The teamsters had been brought to safety.
Their animals were sheltered.
But the remaining cargo could not be moved until conditions improved.
Clara reviewed the inventory every evening.
The supplies were holding.
Barely.
Enough for continued survival if families remained careful and the livestock could be maintained.
But the prospect of another month without regular freight remained frightening.
Then a new problem emerged.
Several farmers admitted they had begun using grain reserved for spring planting.
Clara listened to their explanations.
They were hungry.
Their children needed food.
The settlement's shared portions did not always satisfy them.
And seed grain seemed no different from other grain once it was ground into meal.
She understood their desperation.
But she also understood the danger.
If every seed was eaten, the valley could survive winter only to face another shortage after the thaw.
She called a meeting.
The room was crowded.
Several men argued that hungry people could not eat promises of a future harvest.
Clara agreed.
Then asked what they intended to plant when spring arrived.
Nobody answered.