Do you? She met his eyes. No. The answer stopped him. Hannah pulled on her heavy coat.
That's why you're leading, Henry said. I'm coming, too. No. Hannah, no. He stared at her.
She buttoned her coat. You stay with Molly. His face twisted. That's what P says. Then perhaps he's right sometimes.
Walter almost smiled. Henry did not. Hannah stepped closer. I need you here. The boy looked toward Molly.
Molly's fingers were wound tight around the blue ribbon. Henry swallowed, then nodded. Walter looked once more at the snow outside. We leave in 10 minutes. Hannah packed the medicines into a leather satchel.
Then she poured Grant's coffee into a ced tin flask. A foolish thing, maybe. Still, she took it. At the barn, Walter chose a calm, sorrel mare for her. Hannah mounted awkwardly in her heavy skirts and thick coat.
Her heart hammered. She did not pretend otherwise. Walter swung into his saddle beside her. Two ranch hands joined them. At the gate, Henry stood with Molly.
Hannah looked back. Henry raised one hand. Molly did too. Hannah turned toward the mountains. Somewhere beyond the White Ridge, Grant Dalton was hurt and unable to come home.
For weeks, he had refused to ask Hannah to stay. Now the choice had been taken out of both their hands. She touched her heels lightly to the mayor and rode into the snow to find him. The world narrowed almost at once. The ranch buildings disappeared behind them within 15 minutes, swallowed by blowing white and the dark trunks of pine.
Walter rode ahead, bent low over his horse's neck, while the two ranch hands followed at careful intervals. Hannah kept both hands on the rains. The cold found every opening in her coat. Snow gathered along the brim of her hat and melted against her cheeks. The mare beneath her picked through the trail slowly, testing each step where ice glazed the stones.
Hannah had never ridden in weather like this. She had never ridden this far from a road. Every part of her body knew it. Her knees achd from gripping the saddle. Her fingers went numb inside her gloves.
Once the mare slipped half a step, and Hannah's heart slammed hard enough to make her dizzy. Walter looked back. You all right? Yes. It was not quite true.
She stayed mounted. That was true enough. They reached the lower ridge just before dusk. The wind eased there, protected by the trees, but snow had already filled the old trail in places. Walter dismounted and studied the ground.
Tracks are nearly gone. One of the men, Tom Mercer, pointed toward a broken branch. Horse passed through. Walter crouched. Two maybe three hours old.