THE WOMAN THEY LEFT TO DIE

 The Woman in the Snow

The first thing Elias Boone saw was the red scarf.

It lay half-buried in the snow beside a dead cottonwood tree, bright as blood against a world of white.

Elias pulled his horse to a stop.

The wind screamed across the Wyoming plain.

He had been riding since before sunrise, following a line of cattle tracks toward the northern ridge. The storm had arrived faster than expected, swallowing the trail beneath six inches of fresh snow.

He should have turned back.

Instead, he stared at the scarf.

Something about it felt wrong.

Elias climbed down.

His boots sank into the snow.

He walked toward the tree and crouched.

The scarf was caught beneath a branch.

Beside it were footprints.

Small ones.

A woman's.

They disappeared beneath the snowbank.

Elias followed.

Twenty yards later, he found her.

She was lying beneath the broken remains of a wagon.

Her dress was soaked.

One arm was trapped beneath a wheel.

Her face was pale.

Her lips were blue.

Elias dropped to his knees.

"Ma'am?"

No answer.

He touched her neck.

A pulse.

Weak.

But alive.

"Easy."

He pulled his knife and cut away the frozen fabric around her arm.

The wagon had overturned on the mountain road.

The horse was gone.

The woman had been left alone in the storm.

Elias looked around.

No other tracks.

No shelter.

Whoever had been with her was gone.

He freed her arm and lifted her.

She was lighter than he expected.

Too light.

"Come on."

He carried her toward his horse.

Halfway there, her eyes opened.

She looked at him.

Fear filled them.

"Don't..."

Elias stopped.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

Her lips trembled.

"They'll come back."

"Who?"

She tried to speak.

Only one word came.

"Ridge."

Then she fainted.

Elias wrapped his coat around her.

He lifted her onto his horse.

The nearest town was twelve miles away.

His ranch was closer.

He turned the horse south.

Three hours later, he reached the ranch.

The cabin stood against the storm like a small wooden ship surrounded by a white ocean.

Elias carried the woman inside.

His housekeeper, Ruth, nearly dropped the kettle.

"Good Lord."

"Get blankets."

"Who is she?"

"Don't know."

Ruth hurried toward the bedroom.

Elias laid the woman on the bed.

She was freezing.

Ruth worked quickly.

"She's lucky."

"She doesn't look lucky."

"She's alive."

Elias stared at the woman.

"That's not the same thing."

Ruth looked at him.

"You know something?"

"No."

But he did.

The woman had been afraid.

Not of the storm.

Of someone coming back.

And that meant the wagon accident might not have been an accident.

She woke two days later.

The storm had passed.

Sunlight filled the room.

The woman opened her eyes.

Elias sat beside the window.

He had been repairing a rifle.

She looked at him.

"Where am I?"

"My ranch."

She tried to sit.

Pain crossed her face.

"Don't."

She stopped.

"Who are you?"

"Elias Boone."

She studied him.

"Why am I here?"

"I found you."

"Where?"

"North ridge."

Her expression changed.

Fear returned.

"How long?"

"Two days."

She looked toward the window.