«That’s what the Cheyenne call them, Big Dogs,» Wolfe said dryly. His voice changed. «If thesteeldust won’t listen to reason, and we can’t get close enough to rope her, I’ll have to try creasing her with a bullet.»
Jessica looked unhappily at Wolfe. She knew thesteeldust was the core of the horse herd he hoped to build.
«I’ll do what I have to,» Wolfe said.
BY thethe third day of the blizzard, the men were exhausted from lack of sleep and long hours spent riding under the most miserable conditions imaginable. Jessica made gallons of stew, rafts of cornbread, and lakes of coffee. She kept all of it hot in the kitchen no matter what the hour, for she never knew when one of the men would walk in the back door shivering with cold and hungry as a spring bear.
«Go back to bed,» Jessica said to Willow.
«You’ve been up cooking since dawn. It’s late afternoon now. You must be exhausted.»
«I’m fine. I’m stronger than I look. I always have been.»
Willow looked at Jessica’s drawn face and understood what was bothering her.
«The men will be all right, Jessi. They’re used to riding wild country.»
A tight nod was Jessica’s only answer. She didn’t know how much Caleb had told his wife about the problems they were having with so many wolves prowling in the storm, with the contrary cattle, and with cows calving at the worst possible time. Not to mention the wind itself, edged with thousands of icy teeth that ripped into flesh and stole the very warmth of life from livestock and man alike.
But Jessica knew all of those problems, for Wolfe had told her more than he knew with his terse answers and eloquent silences.
«If only the bloody wind would stop,» Jessica said suddenly.
«Yes. If only. At least it’s not snowing any more,» Willow said, walking to the window. She picked up the spyglass she had put there. In the magnified circle of its view, she looked across the pasture, counting horses under her breath. It was impossible to be certain through thewaisthigh curtains of snow, but she thought the count came up short.
«What is it?» Jessica asked, coming to stand by Willow.
«At least four of the mares are missing.»
«Ishmael will bring them back.»
«Not if they’re foaling,» Willow whispered. «No stallion will disturb a mare when she quits the herd to give birth.» There was a tense silence before Willow added, «I saw at least one wolf. The packs are moving again.»
For an instant, Jessica closed her eyes. She had seen Willow’s Arabians when they were brought to the home pasture. Even heavy with their unborn foals and thick with winter coats, the mares had an elegance of form and movement that enchanted Jessica. The thought of those mares lying down in the cruel wind to give birth while wolves circled hungrily around made her feel ill. The mares would be all but helpless, captive of the need to give birth. For a time, they would be almost as vulnerable as the foals being pushed from warm wombs onto frozen ground.
«The foals…» Jessica whispered.
Willow looked through the spyglass, saying nothing.
«Can you see any of the men?» Jessica asked.
«No. They’re probably combing the forest for cows. When the wind started coming from the northeast before dawn, the herd drifted out of Eagle Creek Basin.»
With growing tension Jessica waited while Willow searched as much as she could see of the pasture through the swirling snow. When she collapsed the spyglass with barely restrained violence, Jessica knew that the mares were still missing.
«I don’t see thesteeldust anywhere,» Willow said finally. «I think the foaling has begun.»
«Dear God, no,» Jessica whispered. «We can’t lose thesteeldust now. Wolfe was so relieved when she came to him as though she understood he would keep her safe.»
Willow set aside the spyglass. «I nursed Ethan a few minutes ago. If he cries before I come back, just —»
«No.»
The curt refusal startled Willow.
«Stay with your baby,» Jessica said tightly. «I’ll check on the mares.»
«I can’t let you do that. The cold is too dangerous.»
«That’s why you’re staying with Ethan. If anything happens to you, the baby will die. If anything happens to me…» Jessica paused and then spoke the bitter truth with no bitterness in her voice. «No one else will die of it.»
Willow clasped her hands together until the knuckles gleamed whitely. «Jessi, you mustn’t go out. You don’t know what this mountain wind is like, how quickly it can take the living warmth from you.»
«I know about cold and wind. I’ve seen sheep freeze standing up in the fields and wells frozen from top to bottom like stone.»
Willow’s eyes widened into startled hazel pools. «I didn’t know England was so cold.»
«It isn’t. Scotland is. Do you have winter clothing that would fit me?»
«Jessi —»
«Do you or not?»
«In the bedroom. I’ll show you.» Willow smiled oddly. «Some of the clothes will be familiar. Caleb got them from Wolfe. They were yours. There’s a shotgun over the front door. Take it. I’ll bring you extra shells.»
Very quickly, Jessica was on the way out of the house, wrapped in layers of wool and buckskin that were familiar, and a hooded fur jacket that was not. She wore pants instead of a skirt and carried a borrowed shotgun. The pockets of her jacket were heavy with extra shells.
The only horse in the corral that didn’t look half dead on its feet from work was a tall black gelding. He didn’t want to be bridled, saddled, or ridden. Jessica managed the first two, but was very nearly thrown before the horse gave up and left the corral with ears laid back. As she rode out into the storm, she was grateful that Wolfe had insisted that she learn to ride difficult horses and do the work ofstablehands.
Before Jessica reached the pasture, she saw the first of the wolves. They were sniffing the wind eagerly and moving as though they had a destination in mind. Acting on instinct, she followed. She lost the trail partway into the sparse forest. The wind was less brutal in the trees, but not by much.
Just as Jessica was going to give up and go back to the pasture, she heard the unmistakable sound of a horse screaming in anger and fear. She spun the black gelding around and headed toward the sounds at a dead run, dodging branches and clinging to the saddle horn when the horse lunged through low spots where snow lay in powdery drifts.
At first, Jessica saw only wolves. Then she saw thesteeldust mare trying to struggle to her feet in order to face the circling predators. Jessica brought the shotgun up and fired into the wolves. They scattered away, only to circle back to the mare almost instantly. Jessica fired again and again, reloading rapidly despite the clumsiness of her gloves.
After the third shot, the wolves withdrew, vanishing into swirls of wind-blown snow. Jessica dismounted and went to thesteeldust. The mustang flinched and laid back her ears but was too caught up in the ultimate moments of giving birth to resist the gentle hands helping her.
As soon as the foal was born, Jessica sat down and pulled it into her lap so that the icy ground wouldn’t sap the newborn’s strength. Very quickly, the mustang was back on her feet and nosing curiously at the slick, wet bundle that overflowed Jessica’s lap. A surprisingly long, agile pink tongue appeared and began a vigorous cleaning of the foal. When Jessica’s hand or leg got in the way, it was cleaned too.
Suddenly, the mare’s head went up and her nostrils flared. She shied away, but came back instantly, for the foal was a lure she couldn’t refuse. She nickered urgently to her foal. In response, the foal tried to stand.
With a few strategic pushes from Jessica, the foal managed to come to its feet, but very quickly went sprawling, its stilt-like legs sticking out every which way. As Jessica reached for it, a harsh male voice cut through the storm.
«What the hell do you think you’re doing out here! Southern lady, sometimes you don’t have the sense God gave a goose!»