People crowded into the kitchen.
The little girl looked toward the table.
There were six jars of bright vegetable relish standing beneath the lantern.
She stared at them.
"Is that food?"
Clara felt something tighten in her chest.
"Yes, sweetheart."
The child's eyes filled.
"Can we have some?"
Clara knelt carefully.
"First, we're going to get you warm."
The little girl nodded.
Clara brushed wet hair from her forehead.
"Then we'll have supper."
Caleb looked toward her.
His expression was full of concern.
He knew how little food one household could spare during a mountain winter.
But Clara did not hesitate.
She turned toward the stove.
Added water to the pot.
Reached for dried beans that were already cooked.
Then brought out cornmeal, potatoes, and a jar of chow-chow.
The sharp, sweet smell of vinegar and spices rose into the room.
The children watched hungrily.
One of the men approached.
"Miss Bennett, we'll pay you when the road opens."
Clara shook her head.
"Tonight, just help me get everybody fed."
He swallowed.
Then nodded.
They worked together.
Caleb carried wood.
The women dried blankets.
The men moved the table to make room.
And Clara served bowls of hot beans, potatoes, and corncakes with a little relish on the side.
It was simple food.
But the children ate as though it were a feast.
For the first time since the storm began, their trembling eased.
Then the door rattled again.
Everyone froze.
Another knock.
Caleb crossed the room.
He opened it.
A frightened teenage boy stood outside, snow clinging to his hat.
His face was pale.
"Mr. Morgan!"
Caleb stepped forward.
"What happened?"
The boy looked past him toward Clara.
"The lower road washed out."
Clara felt cold.
The boy continued.
"People are coming from the farms. The schoolhouse can't hold them, and Pike's store is locked."
Caleb looked toward the dark trail.
"How many?"
The boy swallowed.
"Everybody who could make it."
He glanced back into the snow.
Then whispered the words that changed the entire winter.
"Miss Bennett, they're all coming here."
The boy's name was Thomas Reed.
He was fifteen, thin, red-haired, and known throughout Pine Hollow for delivering messages faster than most grown men could saddle a horse.
Now his lips had turned almost blue.
Clara pulled him inside before asking another question.
"Sit by the stove."
Thomas shook his head.
"I've got to warn the Carters."
"Caleb will see that they know. You're not walking another mile in those clothes."
The boy looked toward the enormous mountain man.
Caleb nodded.
"She's right. Tell us which families are coming."
Thomas held his shaking hands toward the fire.
"The Millers left their place when the water reached the kitchen. Mrs. Ellis has six people at her house, but the stove pipe's broken. The schoolteacher sent the younger children toward the church."
Clara listened.
"How many altogether?"
Thomas closed his eyes briefly.
"Twenty, maybe thirty. I don't know. Some were coming down the south trail."