Page 19 of Mail-Order Viscountess

He moved toward it, his boots punching through snow that had drifted against the base. Kate followed without question—she’d probably spotted the shelter potential too.

Smart woman. Prickly as a cactus, but smart.

He needed to check the space first—see if the shallow cave was safe to enter before he brought Kate into a potential trap. It might be too icy, or mayhap another creature had taken shelter there.

“Wait here.” He had to shout to be heard over the wind’s howl.

Kate turned her face toward him, snow clinging to her eyelashes and the loose strands of hair that had escaped her scarf. She looked like she might argue, but instead gave a sharp nod.

He turned to the falls, the formation rising like something from a dream—ice columns as thick as tree trunks, frozen spray fanning out in delicate sheets that caught what little light filtered through the storm. Beautiful, if he had time to appreciate it. But he didn’t have energy to spare.

Ice even coated the ground where mist must have settled before the cold locked it solid. His boots found purchase on the slick surface, though each step required care.

The wind bit through his coat as he inched closer to the frozen cascade. His hand found the ice, solid beneath his glove, and he used it to steady himself as he worked his way around the formation’s edge.

The hollow opened up behind the falls—deeper than he’d remembered. Maybe ten feet deep and tall enough to stand without hunching. Barely.

The roar of wind dropped to a muted howl, and the sudden loss made his ears ring. The ice covering the opening shone a translucent blue-white where the light filtered through.

He tested the ground with his boot. Slick, but manageable if they moved carefully. The back wall curved smooth where water had carved it over the years, and the space smelled of wet stone and cold—sharp and clean after the journey through the storm.

No animals. No dangerous ice waiting to break loose and crush them. Just shelter.

He let out a cloudy breath. The air even felt warmer here, protected from the wind’s teeth. Not warm—nothing about this day could be considered warm—but the difference was enough that his face stopped burning.

He worked his way around the falls to where Kate waited. She’d turned her back to the wind, her shoulders hunched against the driving snow. When he touched her arm, she startled, spinning to him with wide eyes.

“It’s safe.” He had to lean close to be heard. “Come on.”

He reached out a hand, and she took it without hesitation.

Her fingers closed around his—cold even through their gloves—and he led her around the edge of the falls. The ice beneath their boots required every bit of his attention, each step deliberate as they inched along the formation’s spiky edge.

The hollow opened before them, and Kate’s grip tightened on his hand as she took in the space. The wind’s howl dropped to something almost peaceful, and the sudden quiet made the pounding of his pulse loud in his ears.

The cold followed them in, but without the wind, it felt almost manageable.

Almost.

He released her hand once they’d cleared the entrance, giving her room to move deeper into the shelter. She took three careful steps, then stopped, her gaze lifting to the ice masterpiece over the opening.

“We can rest here.” He could talk easier now without shouting over the storm. “Wait for the snow to ease.”

She turned to look at him, snowmelt already tracking down her face from where the flakes had accumulated. “How long?”

How long would a blizzard last? He’d seen storms blow through in an hour, and others that buried the ranch for three days straight. No way to know which kind this was. Reading weather in the mountains was like trying to predict which way a spooked horse would bolt—sometimes you guessed right, sometimes you ended up in the dirt.

“I don’t know.” He pulled off his hat and knocked the snow from it, though more would pile up the moment he stepped back outside. “But we can’t cross until we can see better. Could be an hour. Could be longer.”

Her jaw tightened—just a hair, but he caught it. The woman probably wanted certainty the same way he wanted his ribs to stop screaming with every breath. Neither of them would get what they wanted today.

She turned away, moving deeper into the hollow. Her boots scraped against the ice-slicked stone, the sound echoing off the frozen walls. When she reached the back, she pressed one gloved hand against the rock face, her shoulders rising and falling with a breath that looked like it took effort.

He should say something. Offer reassurance or distraction or whatever people could give in situations like this. But his mind was as frozen as the water at his back, and the cold gnawed deeper with each passing moment.

James would take care of Clara and Rose. His brother had proven himself capable in worse situations than a broken river crossing. They’d probably go on to the Walton farm, about a quarter hour’s ride past the river. Or wait it out in the wagon with blankets and the supplies.

Either way, Clara McKinney wouldn’t freeze today.