As she turned to walk back to the mule, he didn’t miss the arch of her brows that showed she realized his ploy.
But at least she didn’t argue.
Damien stepped out onto the snow-covered ice. With the trees on either bank protecting this section from the wind, a layer of white spread across the width of the river. He used a foot to brush aside some of the snow, and the ice beneath didn’t appear to have bubbles. Good.
As he started forward, he tried to summon that recklessness that drove him in situations like this. Yet all he could see was an image of Charlotte breaking through the ice. Arms flailing as frigid water sucked her down.
He locked his jaw against the vision. He would make sure that didn’t happen.
When he neared the far side, he skirted around the area where underbrush rose above the ice. The path he took brought him nearer to saplings growing from the water, but at least they’d be sturdier to grab onto should the surface splinter beneath his feet.
The ice stayed strong, and when he stepped onto the snowy bank, he breathed out his relief. Perhaps they would cross this river yet without a catastrophe.
He followed his tracks back across to Charlotte and the mule. Her face didn’t show much of a triumphant look, mostly just the weariness from their long day.
He took Gulliver’s rope from her. “Just stay on the path I took.”
She nodded and started across. He gave her a few strides’ lead so there wouldn’t be too much weight on a single spot of the ice. Then he tugged the mule forward.
When they reached the first step onto the snow-covered ice, Gulliver hesitated, tipping his head down as he eyed the stretch ahead of them. With the snow still spread across the river, one wouldn’t necessarily know at first glance that this was ice. This proved once more how the mule had an uncanny knack for sensing things. Or maybe smelling them.
He gave a pull on the rope, and after one more hesitation, Gulliver took a tentative step forward.
The ice held as Damien had expected it to in this section.Gulliver’s keen senses might give them warning if some of the frozen mass ahead was weaker. Perhaps. Damien couldn’t depend on that possibility, but he’d sure appreciate if it played out.
Charlotte had gained distance from them with the mule’s hesitation, and she’d now reached the center of the river. Having her so far ahead felt like her safety was out of his control, so he lengthened his strides to catch up. Gulliver refused to lengthen his, though, keeping to a plodding pace that made Damien itch to pull the animal faster.
Yet he knew better than to try to force him into anything. Mules responded much better if you eased them into doing whatever it was you needed.
He kept his gaze glued on Charlotte. Her shoulders no longer seemed tense, and her stride was more relaxed, though certainly weary. They would camp here at the river’s edge no matter what. All three of them had reached their limit for the day.
He’d been guiding them southward most of the day, and tomorrow morning he would shift them to the southwest.
What should he say when she asked if they would reach the fort tomorrow? Shewouldask. She did every day. A knot tightened his throat. He hated deception, but he was fairly certain that if he told her outright he was taking her back to her village, she would leave him forthwith.
He cast his gaze to the clouds above. The expanse covered the sun but didn’t have a look that portended rain or snow. More like simply a gray winter’s day. If only—
A scream tore through his thoughts, jerking him to attention. A splash sounded as Charlotte’s foot broke through the ice.
His pulse and body leapt to full speed as fear vaulted him forward.
Charlotte’s momentum had pushed her forward into the icy water, but as her body sank down, her hands scrambled to find purchase on the snowy surface. She hooked her elbows on one edge, then a loud crack sounded as the chunk she leaned on gave way.
He’d nearly reached her as she grabbed for reeds sticking through the ice. Reeds. How had she shifted off course?
There was no time now to answer that question, and he slid to his belly so he could reach out and give her a hand to cling to. “Here! Grab my hand.”
But she didn’t turn to him. Didn’t even acknowledge his words.
Instead, she rose up in the water, as though she’d been riding a horse submerged beneath the surface.
Then his mind finally caught up with his eyes. The water wasn’t deep here. Of course it wouldn’t be, so near the bank. In his panic, he’d lost sight of that fact.
“I’m all right.” The water reached nearly to her waist, and she wrapped her arms around herself as she stepped toward the bank.
A new reality sank through him. He had to get away from the weak ice, then get Gulliver safely to shore. And most importantly, he had to get Charlotte warm.
In this icy temperature, life-threatening sickness wouldn’t take long.
