Forty strides across, at least. Snow piled in numerous drifts atop the water where the wind had blown it. That meant a layer of ice crusted the surface beneath the snow.
“Do you think the ice is strong enough to hold us?”
“Probably. The creek where I watered Gulliver at noon had ice as thick as my arm.” He motioned to his forearm, no doubt full of ropey muscle that made him stronger than any ice.
Still ... They shouldn’t take chances unless there was no other option. “Perhaps there’s a way around it.”
He motioned toward the trees dotting the river’s edge. “Let’s camp here and cross in the morning.”
Urgency pressed through her. “We should find a way around it tonight. Then we’ll be able to start out quicker at daybreak.”
He glanced toward her, his jaw tense. But as he studied her, uncertainty seeped into his gaze. Finally, his focus shifted back to the river. He stood quietly another minute before heaving a sigh. “We can check the ice. See how sturdy it is.”
A knot pulled tight in her belly. “Can’t we look for a way around it?”
He shook his head as he started forward. “I know this river. We’ll have to cross it.”
She swallowed down the fear trying to rise up, doing herbest to maintain a brave expression. When she was a young girl, one of the older lads in Laurent had fallen through thin ice. When he’d finally been pulled out, his lifeless body had already frozen. She could still remember his mother’s weeping, which seemed to last for years. She couldn’t do that to her own family. They would never know what had happened to her, but they would grieve.
When they reached the river’s edge, she slid off the mule while Damien approached the bank. After rubbing the snow away from a spot of ice with his foot, he tapped his toe on the hard crust, then placed a tentative step on the surface.
She cringed for the splash as his foot broke through, but it didn’t come. He brought his other foot forward and placed it ahead of the first, easing his weight from one to the other. “Seems sturdy enough. I’ll cross over and make sure it can hold Gulliver, too.”
As he took another step, the fear surged into her throat, and this time it wouldn’t be swallowed down. “Wait.”
He paused and looked back once more, his manner as casual as if he stood on dry ground. His raised brows said he had no idea why she would stop him.
A glance at the snow blowing across the river strengthened her resolve. They had no bodies of water this large around Laurent, only oversized streams. But she’d heard the hunters say the wider sections took longer to freeze over. A river this massive wouldn’t bear the weight of a man so soon, much less a mule. “It’s not safe. The snow is too new, the ice won’t be strong enough in the middle of a river this wide. Isn’t there a narrower place to cross?”
He shook his head. “None that would freeze as fast asthis. Too many trees coming out of the water weakens the ice. This empty stretch will be frozen. Have no fear.”
Even while he still spoke, he moved out farther. She gripped Gulliver’s rope as her pulse thundered through her throat. How could she stand here and watch this?
Yet she couldn’t look away, cringing with each step he took. Waiting for the moment his foot broke through the surface. Surely he would have the sense to throw himself backward if that happened, and he would have to be walking slowly to manage it. His steps were measured, but his stride carried a momentum that might not allow him to grab on to safety when the ice cracked beneath him.
Lord, keep him safe. Don’t let him crash through into the icy water.
If he managed to climb back out, he would take ill from the dunking. But if the ice was thin enough, it might continue to crumble until it washed him away beneath the surface. Just like that boy.
Fear pounded harder within her.
As he passed the halfway mark, she finally allowed herself to breathe once more, though she had to force each inhale. With every other thought, she lifted a prayer heavenward for his safety. Her prayer life certainly had increased since she’d met this man. Did God hear her? She’d never been certain, and she was even less so now. She’d learned the Scriptures with all the other children as part of her studies, and her father truly seemed to commune with the Lord.
She’d said her fair share of prayers, too, mostly at bedtime and when called upon at a family meal. But had God ever answered her? Sometimes the events she prayed for had happened, other times not. Could any of the answers reallybe ascribed to God? She usually did her best to find a way to accomplish them on her own. Was that really faith at all?
Almighty God, if you’ve ever thought to answer my petitions before, let this be the one.
At last, Damien reached the opposite shore, and relief nearly stole the strength from her legs. But then he turned around and started back to her side. Her breath hitched, but she forced air in and out. He’d made it once. Surely that meant he could cross safely a second time.
But with every step he progressed, a new certainty rose within her like the bear from the cave. She would not risk walking across such an expanse. She didn’t take dangerous chances, and this certainly fell into that category.
There had to be a narrower stretch of river that would be safer to cross. Both for her and Gulliver.
Exhilaration swept through Damien as he took his last few strides to exit the ice. He’d done it.
He’d been fairly sure the ice was thick enough. No bubbles showed beneath the surface to signal weakness, and no trees or grass grew above to break the strength of the frozen expanse.
But he’d not been certain. In those steps across the deeper stretch of the river, when he’d known a break in the ice could seal his fate, that urge to embrace death had returned. A longing to be with Michelle again.
