Addie woke to a pounding head and no sense of what had happened or where she might be. She pushed to her elbow and swiped at her face. Had she fallen into a puddle? Her gloved fingers came away wet, and she stared as a tiny bit of white settled on the black fabric. It was snowing earlier, but how did the entire landscape get coated so quickly, and why hadn’t she noticed?
She struggled to a sitting position, groaning as renewed shafts of pain lanced her head. A sudden ache in her shoulder made itself known next, followed by a throbbing in her right knee. All of a sudden memory flooded back—the wagon catapulting into the air and launching her off the seat.
“Clem?” Addie twisted to the side and peered around, praying the driver could come to her aid. The sight that met her eyes tore a gasp from her lips. The wagon lay on its side, the horse still in the harness on the ground nearby, and Clem a short distance from Addie, a pool of blood growing in the whiteness thickly covering the earth. “Clem!” She pushed to her feet and reeled sideways as a wave of dizziness and pain hit her, then slipped in the snow and landed on her knees. “Please, God, let him be all right.”
She staggered to her feet and across the uneven ground until she reached the man’s side. She knelt beside him and pressed her hand against his chest, praying she’d feel a heartbeat. “Wake up, Clem.” The whispered words came out on a sob. Nothing. Not a breath came from between his parted lips, and she could feel nothing beneath the rough fabric of his heavy shirt. All the color had drained from his face, and the stain on the snow grew larger. “No. It can’t be true.” She rose to her feet and backed a few paces away from the still body, suddenly aware of the increasing cold.
A movement caught her attention, and she turned. The trapped horse quivered and blew out a harsh breath through distended nostrils, then thrashed and heaved, trying to rise but failing. She took a step toward him, shivering as she spotted the animal’s leg bent at an unnatural angle. Pity strengthened Addie, and she walked to the wagon. Clem had carried a rifle. It couldn’t be far. It took a few minutes to find the Winchester buried beneath the rapidly falling snow. Fortunately, the rifle was the same model her father had taught her to shoot while hunting. She put it to her shoulder, hating what she was going to do, but there was no way she could allow the animal to suffer. The echo of the shot bounced off the white-clad hills, and the horse lay quiet.
How grateful she was at this moment that Papa had taught her to be calm under pressure—to think without going into a swoon as so many women tended to do, even if the swoon was only a pretense—and to pursue the logical course of action. She’d best keep the gun close, in case wolves moved in or she met someone who had something other than good intentions—although why anyone would be out in this storm she couldn’t imagine.
From everything she could determine, the most sensible thing to do was to pack everything she might need into one bag, shoulder the rifle for protection, and head for the line shack Clem had pointed out as not being far away. She hated not being able to bury Clem, but if she didn’t leave soon, the cabin would be impossible to find. She could only pray at this point that Sam Tolliver would realize she was missing and find her.
Grant tied his horse in the partially enclosed lean-to next to the cabin and slid the saddle off the weary gelding. He dragged his feet caked with heavy snow through the final few feet to the shanty door. He’d come out later and rub the horse down, but right now everything blurred in the line of his vision. His head felt as though it were on fire one moment and frozen the next.
Over a foot of snow had come down in the night with the blowing wind creating drifts up to three feet in places. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the mind-numbing cold that encompassed him. How had he miscalculated so badly? Once dawn had broken, he’d been certain he could find the cabin in under an hour, but the wind driving the snow had confused his sense of direction.
A fire sounded mighty good right now, but he shivered so hard he’d never be able to hold the ax. He twisted the metal knob, feeling the cold through his gloves, then pushed the door open on squealing hinges. If only he could get out of these wet clothes and stop his teeth from chattering. He prayed there was dry kindling inside—he couldn’t remember if he’d left any the last time he’d been here—but most travelers who used a cabin like this were prone to leave it fully stocked for the next person who came by.
He staggered over the threshold and swung the door shut behind him, barely able to stay on his feet. A slight movement caught his attention, and he swung his gaze toward a dark corner, but his blurred vision made it impossible to see into the depths. Welcome warmth alerted him to the fact he wasn’t alone, then a loud click that could only come from a gun being cocked froze him even stiffer than he’d been from the cold.
He fumbled for his rifle—why wasn’t it here? His numb brain struggled to remember. He shook his head again, trying to clear it. He’d left it propped against the outside wall. They’d had rustlers in this area over the years, and he should have been more prepared, half-frozen or not. He rubbed his hand across his snow-crusted whiskers. He had to get a grip and figure out what was going on. “Who’s there? Come out where I can see you.”
A distinctly feminine voice answered. “You tell me who you are first, mister. I’ve got a rifle aimed at your chest.” The woman moved into the light coming through the lone window, holding a rifle like she knew how to use it. He took one look at the light filtering through the window casting a glow around her dark hair and gave a bemused smile. How strange. An angel with a gun. He tried to laugh at the irony, but instead, his traitorous legs gave out and he slumped through the encroaching dark onto the unyielding floor.
Addie stood rooted to the spot, keeping her rifle trained on the intruder. For all she knew this was a ruse, and he’d grab her as soon as she came near enough to check his condition. “Mister?” No movement came from the prone figure, so Addie edged a little closer, her rifle still aimed, but she eased her finger off the trigger.
She stopped barely out of reach of his long arm and stared. He was strong, if the width of his shoulders was an indication, and taller than she was by several inches. His hat had rolled off when he fell, revealing dark blond hair trimmed above his ears. She’d barely gotten a glimpse of his eyes, but from what she’d seen, he didn’t appear to be mean. Confused maybe, but not out to hurt anyone. She prodded him with the tip of her rifle and waited.
Suddenly, a convulsion wracked his body, and Addie realized he was shivering. Why, he was soaking wet, even his coat and jeans. She tossed the gun on the cot nearby and stooped over him, placing a hand on his forehead. Her mother had a little nursing experience and had taught her the basics. It appeared he might have a fever.
He groaned and moved his head at her touch. Addie grabbed the corner of the blanket on the cot and mopped his face. “Can you hear me, mister? I have to get you out of these wet clothes and into bed. I need you to help me.”
She slid her hands under his arms and attempted to lift him, but he was dead weight. He moaned again and mumbled something. She leaned closer to hear.
“Connie. Need to get home to Connie and Thomas.”
So, the man had a family—more than likely a wife and son. She heaved a relieved sigh. He must be a local rancher trapped by the storm as she had been, but she’d been fortunate enough to find the cabin yesterday afternoon before the real snow set in. It appeared as though this man had been caught out all night.
At least the wind had ceased, and a dim sun peaked out through a rift in the clouds, but it was still too cold for this to melt anytime soon. “Come on, mister.” She tugged at his arm.
He still didn’t move.
“Fine. We’ll do it the hard way.” She rolled him onto his back then grabbed the cuff of his jacket and pulled until she was able to remove one arm from the sleeve. It only took a couple of minutes to get the wet garment off. At least his shirt wasn’t soaked through to his skin, but his jeans were plastered to his legs.
“What are you doing?” He struggled to rise, staring around the room but not seeming to see anything.
She gently pushed him back down. “Shh. You’re sick. Can you get onto the bed if I help you?” Frustration hit Addie as his eyes closed again and his muscles relaxed.
She bit her lip, unsure what to do. There was no way she could get him onto the bed, but he had to get warm. At least she’d found enough wood in the lean-to when she’d arrived to get a fire going in the potbellied stove, the one truly nice feature about this place. She stepped to the hearth and grabbed a nice-sized log, thankful it was pine and would cause a hot blaze.
Returning to the bed, she glanced at the man on the floor again. Addie slid a blanket off the bed and spread it out next to him. She’d have to drag him if he couldn’t help move himself. She grabbed the man’s shoulders and rolled him over onto the blanket. It was a good thing he didn’t appear to be injured.
He stirred and groaned. “What are you doing?”
She hesitated then blew out a long breath. “Good. You’re awake. I need your help to get you onto the bed.”
“Too tired. So cold.” His eyes closed again. “Tired.” He mumbled the word again, and his body relaxed.
“I suppose it can’t be helped.” Addie stepped to the edge of the blanket and gripped it in both hands. Digging in her heels, she leaned back and pulled, the effort making her sore shoulder scream in protest. The stranger was heavier than his trim hips had led her to believe. Must be all muscle. She tugged again and moved him a few more inches. Within a few minutes, she had him situated next to the hearth. She pulled the pillow and the remaining blanket off the cot. She tucked the pillow under his head and wrapped the blanket around his torso, leaving his damp jeans exposed to the fire. There. He should dry in no time.
“Water.” He whispered the word, but his eyes remained closed. “So thirsty.”
She flew to the bucket of water she’d drawn from a well behind the cabin and dipped the ladle into it. “Here. Let me help you.” She slipped her hand under his head, dismayed at the heat that radiated through her fingers.
She placed the ladle to his lips. “Drink slowly. Easy.”
The man took a couple of sips then lay back as though the effort had drained him of any energy that remained. “Thanks.” His eyes were still closed, and his head started to roll toward the fire.
“Mister.” She patted his cheek, bristly with stubble. “What’s your name? Are you hurt?”
“Angel.”
“Your name is Angel?”
His brown eyes opened, and his head rolled back toward her. “Never thought I’d see an angel. I must’a died and made it to heaven.” He gave her the most beautiful smile she’d ever seen then closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep once again.