"Not yet."
The first night after the meeting was worse.
Wind hammered the settlement.
Snow piled against doors.
The creek froze around its edges, but the current beneath carried debris from the mountain runoff.
By evening, a low meadow behind the general store had flooded beneath a broken layer of ice.
The water found its way into the lower cellars.
Households that had stored potatoes and root vegetables below ground discovered their supplies standing in muddy, freezing water.
Some foods were destroyed.
Others had to be examined and discarded because they were contaminated.
The schoolhouse stove failed when its chimney became blocked.
A stable roof sagged under snow.
And the road toward the southern farms vanished beneath drifts too deep for wagons.
Clara was standing by her kitchen stove when the door suddenly burst open.
Caleb stepped inside.
He was covered in snow.
Ice clung to his beard.
His breathing was hard.
Clara set down her spoon.
"Caleb?"
He pushed the door shut behind him.
"The pass is blocked completely."
Her face tightened.
"Completely?"
He nodded.
"Rock and snow. Part of the upper road is gone."
Clara looked toward the window.
"How long to clear it?"
Caleb removed his frozen gloves.
"I don't know."
She stared.
He lowered his voice.
"It could be weeks."
Clara turned toward the pantry.
Her mind immediately began counting.
Beans.
Cornmeal.
Potatoes.
Oats.
Meat.
The jars.
Enough for herself.
Perhaps enough to help a few neighbors briefly.
But not enough to replace a missing freight shipment.
Before she could speak, someone knocked.
Three hard blows struck the door.
Caleb turned.
Clara looked toward him.
The knocking came again.
She opened the door.
A blast of snow swept inside.
Three families stood in the darkness.
A man holding a bundled child.
A woman with an infant tucked against her coat.
Another couple supporting an elderly grandmother between them.
Their faces were red from the cold.
Their blankets were soaked.
Behind them, the snow was falling so heavily that Clara could barely see the fence.
The first man spoke.
"Our cellars flooded."
His voice shook.
"The schoolhouse is freezing. We didn't know where else to go."
Clara stared at the children.
One little girl wore shoes that had soaked completely through.
Her lips trembled.
The woman holding the infant began crying.
"Please."
Clara opened the door wider.
"Come inside."
Caleb immediately stepped forward.
He lifted the elderly woman carefully across the threshold.
Clara moved chairs toward the stove.
"Get those wet coats off. Caleb, more wood."
He nodded.
She took the baby from the trembling mother long enough for the woman to remove her wet shawl.
Then wrapped the child in a dry blanket.