“Try to sleep,” Violet said softly. They’d gotten so little sleep last night, and they were both exhausted.
“You do know I’ll have to leave in the morning and go for help.”
“No, absolutely not.” Violet didn’t want to think about sending Hyacinth out into a snowy wilderness by herself. Toomany things that could go wrong already had, and she didn’t want to take any more risks.
Hyacinth seemed about to protest, then expelled a breath. “I suppose there’s no sense in fighting about it since we’ll probably be snowed in by morning.”
They lay quietly for a moment, the wind rattling the windows and even the roof, as if agreeing with Hyacinth.
“I’m sorry,” Violet whispered. “We shouldn’t have come out here.”
“You were only trying to save us.”
“But now look. We’re in worse trouble.”
“I’d rather die here than dance in a saloon with strangers.”
Violet didn’t want to say that there was a very good chance they could die out here without heat.
If only they’d been more careful with the few remaining matches in the cabin when they’d been trying to start a fire. But they’d quickly used them up in their futile efforts, not worrying because they had more in their bags.
Violet blamed herself for the mistake. She’d been in so much pain by the time she’d reached the cabin that she hadn’t been thinking straight. They’d been in a hurry to get her boot off and tend to her ankle. Hyacinth had always been the more medically minded of the two of them and had elevated Violet’s leg and then made a cold compress out of snow to try to reduce the swelling.
By then, heavy, wet snowflakes had been falling. When Hyacinth had gone back to get their valises, everything had been snow-covered and damp. They hadn’t realized the matches they’d brought along had gotten wet until too late. By that point, it had been snowing too hard to attempt to return to the ranch.
So they’d resolved to get through the night. Somehow. Violet could only pray that in the morning, her ankle would feel better, the weather would be clear, and they would both be able to leave together.
At least the cabin was sturdy and the chinking solid. It had two sets of bunk beds with flimsy mattresses held by box frames. A long table with benches took up most of the rest of the room, with a rusty old stove in the corner along with two scuffed chairs.
A couple of large trunks contained supplies—one with linens, blankets, towels, and soap, and the other with the few matches they’d used up and some canned foods—although not as much as Violet remembered from the last time she’d been here.
She winced as she moved her foot, which was too swollen to fit back into her boot. “We’ll have to go back to the Noble Ranch.”
“No.” Hyacinth’s response was filled with loathing. “After the way Sterling treated us, I refuse to go there.”
“It’s the closest place.”
“I don’t mind traveling farther to get help.”
“We might not be able to make it farther.” Violet didn’t exactly want to see Sterling ever again either. She’d already humiliated herself enough with him last night. Of course, she deserved every bit of his bitterness and scorn toward her. But she had expected a little more kindness and concern. Maybe even some fondness. After all, he’d once declared his love so ardently. If he’d truly loved her as much as he’d professed, how could all of that love disappear? Unless it had never really been as deep as he’d made it seem.
Wasn’t that the way it had been with her father too? He claimed to love her and Hyacinth. But when difficulties arose, his love wasn’t reliable.
Hyacinth released a mirthless laugh. “I hope you weren’t thinking that you would get back together with Sterling.”
“No, that hadn’t crossed my mind at all.” She could admit that during the carriage ride up the pass to Breckenridge, she had thought about him—what he was doing, how he was faring, and if he’d moved on with another woman. She’d wondered whatit would be like to see him in passing, how he would act toward her, what he would say.
Well, she didn’t need to guess any longer. He couldn’t stand being in the same room with her—so much so that he’d hardly even looked at her or talked to her.
Another gust of wind shook the cabin, sending a whistle down the stovepipe and rattling the hollow metal tubes.
If only Mother hadn’t died. She’d been their solid rock amidst the chaos that Father had always brought to their lives.
At a thud against the door, Violet’s eyes flew open to darkness—because, of course, they hadn’t been able to light the lantern either.
Hyacinth stiffened, while Violet pushed up to her elbow and stared through the dark in the direction of the door. Was someone there, or had the wind blown a branch or icicle against the cabin?
The door rattled harder. “Open up, Violet,” came a muffled voice.
