Page 16 of Mail-Order Viscountess

The white coating over the river’s surface should be reassuring. But all she could see was the dark water that must flow beneath—cold enough to kill in minutes if the ice gave way. Cold enough to swallow Clara whole before Kate could reach her.

“I’d like to walk for a bit.” The words came out steadier than she felt. “Take a bit of exercise.”

James glanced back toward the wagon, then at her. “You’ll want to keep close. Snow’s coming down harder.”

“I know.” She turned to the wagon bed where Clara sat bundled under blankets, her face barely visible beneath the hood of her cloak. “Clara, come walk with me.”

Her sister’s nose wrinkled. “I’m finally warm. Can’t I stay here?”

The refusal shouldn’t have stung—Clara had every right to prefer the relative comfort of the wagon. But the thought of crossing this river with her sister trapped in that heavy rig made Kate’s chest tighten until breathing hurt.

“The fresh air would do you good.”

“I’m better here.” Clara pulled the blankets higher. “Really, Kate. I’m comfortable.”

Kate opened her mouth to argue, then caught the shadows under Clara’s eyes. Three months of travel had worn them both down, but Clara looked more exhausted than Kate had seen her since Fort Benton. Forcing her to walk in the snow and cold just to ease Kate’s own fears seemed cruel.

“All right.” She stepped back from the wagon. “Stay warm.”

Thomas appeared beside her as James guided the team toward the ice. When had he climbed down from the bench? She hadn’t heard his approach over the wind.

“Mind if I walk with you?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just fell into step as she moved to follow a few steps behind the wagon.

The last thing she needed was company—especially his. But sending him away would require conversation, and she had no energy for it.

The wagon’s wheels hit the ice with a hollow sound that carried too well across the frozen expanse. The knot in her middle pulled tighter.

“There’s a frozen waterfall about five minutes upriver.” Thomas’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. “Beautiful this time of year. The spray freezes as it falls, creates these formations like icicles but wider. Fan-shaped.”

She glanced at him. His breath formed white clouds in the cold air, and snow had already gathered on his hat and shoulders. The bruise on his cheek stood out darker against his wind-reddened skin.

Was he trying to distract her? Did he actually see how nervous this situation made her and was trying to ease the worry? The realization settled over her like the snow—cold and unwelcome but undeniable.

“That’s nice.” She kept her eyes on the wagon ahead, watching the way it swayed across the ice. Did it always creak so much? Or was that just her nerves making every sound ominous?

“The formations catch the light when the sun hits them.” Thomas kept talking, his voice carrying that easy quality men used when they thought words could smooth over reality. “Like diamonds. Though I suppose you can’t see much in this weather.”

She couldn’t. The snow had thickened until the far bank disappeared entirely into swirling white. Even the wagon ahead had started to blur at the edges, though it couldn’t have been more than ten steps away.

The groaning sound came again—not the wood maybe, but something deeper. Something beneath the wheels. Her breath caught, and panic rose in her middle.

“It’s just settling,” Thomas said beside her, though she hadn’t asked. “Ice does that. Makes all kinds of noise when there’s weight on it, but that doesn’t mean⁠—”

The crack split the air like a gunshot.

Her heart stopped. The wagon lurched, its back end dropping with a sickening crunch as the ice gave way beneath it. The rip of splintering wood mixed with Clara’s scream, and Kate was running before her mind caught up to her body.

“Clara!” The name tore from her throat as her boots hit the ice. She slid, caught herself, and kept moving.

Snow whipped her face, burning her eyes, but she could see the wagon—tilted at an angle now, its rear wheels disappearing into black water that churned around the broken ice.

Clara. Clara was in that wagon.

Her feet went out from under her. Her hip slammed against the ice, and a burst of pain shot up her side. Scrambling forward on hands and knees, she clawed at the slick surface. Her gloves did nothing—just slid uselessly across the frozen river.

“Kate, stop!” Strong hands grabbed her shoulder and arm. Holding her back.

She twisted against his grip, but his fingers dug into her coat sleeve. “Let go!”