the tiredness that gripped him now he couldn’t seem to shake. No matter how much he rested, he was just as drained as before.
He had to believe it was temporary, that Clementine wou ld make it there and back by tomorrow evening. Otherwise, he might as well crawl out in the snow and freeze death. It’d be infinitely quicker than the slow, painful death facing him now.
***
Clementine kept her mind off of Ezekiel and instead, on reaching the homestead he’d told her about.
Big place. Up on stilts. Lot of cleared land. Couple named Paulson.
He’d only met th em once, but they’d seemed nice. She eyed her gas gauge, the needle sinking ever lower.
She hadn’ t told him about the state of the gas. Carrying him and the supplies they needed hadn’t left much room for cans, and she’d used what little she’d brought already. If he died because she broke down on the way—
She cast the thought aside. She wouldn’ t go there, think that.
The day wou nd past and the light faded. The snowmobile sputtered, the engine gasping for fuel. She urged it further, blind to her surroundings, the image of Ezekiel bright in her face. But the machine choked and died just the same. She pounded on the handlebars, curses flying from her lips, then raised her gaze. The soft yellow light of an immense cabin glowed on the horizon, only ten minutes’ walk or more. A miracle.
S he climbed off and set her gaze for it, walking over the thick drifts. A dog barked at her presence and then another. The front door swung open.
“May I help you?”
Gripping the wooden stair railing, she climbed onto the front porch. A couple in their mid-fifties peered out at her, the man stroking a thick, gray beard.
“Name’s Clementine Button,” she said. “I’ve come to get help for Ezekiel Knapp.”
“Ezekiel Knapp?” the woman asked, her voice doubtful.
“You remember. T hat feller who bought the land northeast of here,” explained her husband.
“You’ re Mr. and Mrs. Paulson?” Clementine asked.
The man nodded. “Please, come in. It’s too cold to stay out there tonight.”
The warmth of the cabin and homey atmosphere halted Clementine inside the door. She took in the comfortable surroundings, a pair of well-loved chairs set before a roaring fire, and sighed.
“Sit,” Mrs. Paulson said. “I’ll fix you some coffee.”
With a nod, Clementine lowered herself into a chair, guilt pecking at her. Ezekiel was out there alone, and here she was, safe and protected.
“What’s this about Ezekiel Knapp needin’ help?” asked Mr. Paulson. “I wasn’t aware he had a lady friend with him.”
Clementine focused on his kind face. “He didn’t. I live a good distance to the east. I was out shooting moose and found him in the snow. He’d been shot.”
“Shot?” Mr. Paulson’s expression widened with surprise. “Is he …”
“Alive, but barely. I kept him with me for a day, but his leg has grown worse. I didn’t have a working radio, so he convinced me to go to his cabin, as it was closer. But on arriving, I found it burnt to the ground.”
“Burnt to the ground?” This came from Mrs. Paulson. She’d returned with a mug of coffee and pressed it into Clementine’s hands.
Clementine took a sip. “Yes, and deliberate.” She paused. Should she tell them about the footprints?
Mr. Paulson leaned forward in his chair. “It’s the gold. Someone’s always thinking it’s on that land and trying to dig it up. I haven’t seen anyone come by here recently though.”
“Miss Button, wasn’t it?” Mrs. Paulson asked.
Clementine nodded.
“Where is Ezekiel? You said he needed help?”
Clementine sat the coffee on the table in front of her and stared at the light reflected in its dark depths. “He needs medical care. Infection has set into his leg , and he’s too weak to walk. I left him in a teepee he said belonged to George. I must get back. I …”
“You can’t go tonight,” Mr. Paulson interrupted.
He had to believe it was temporary, that Clementine wou ld make it there and back by tomorrow evening. Otherwise, he might as well crawl out in the snow and freeze death. It’d be infinitely quicker than the slow, painful death facing him now.
***
Clementine kept her mind off of Ezekiel and instead, on reaching the homestead he’d told her about.
Big place. Up on stilts. Lot of cleared land. Couple named Paulson.
He’d only met th em once, but they’d seemed nice. She eyed her gas gauge, the needle sinking ever lower.
She hadn’ t told him about the state of the gas. Carrying him and the supplies they needed hadn’t left much room for cans, and she’d used what little she’d brought already. If he died because she broke down on the way—
She cast the thought aside. She wouldn’ t go there, think that.
The day wou nd past and the light faded. The snowmobile sputtered, the engine gasping for fuel. She urged it further, blind to her surroundings, the image of Ezekiel bright in her face. But the machine choked and died just the same. She pounded on the handlebars, curses flying from her lips, then raised her gaze. The soft yellow light of an immense cabin glowed on the horizon, only ten minutes’ walk or more. A miracle.
S he climbed off and set her gaze for it, walking over the thick drifts. A dog barked at her presence and then another. The front door swung open.
“May I help you?”
Gripping the wooden stair railing, she climbed onto the front porch. A couple in their mid-fifties peered out at her, the man stroking a thick, gray beard.
“Name’s Clementine Button,” she said. “I’ve come to get help for Ezekiel Knapp.”
“Ezekiel Knapp?” the woman asked, her voice doubtful.
“You remember. T hat feller who bought the land northeast of here,” explained her husband.
“You’ re Mr. and Mrs. Paulson?” Clementine asked.
The man nodded. “Please, come in. It’s too cold to stay out there tonight.”
The warmth of the cabin and homey atmosphere halted Clementine inside the door. She took in the comfortable surroundings, a pair of well-loved chairs set before a roaring fire, and sighed.
“Sit,” Mrs. Paulson said. “I’ll fix you some coffee.”
With a nod, Clementine lowered herself into a chair, guilt pecking at her. Ezekiel was out there alone, and here she was, safe and protected.
“What’s this about Ezekiel Knapp needin’ help?” asked Mr. Paulson. “I wasn’t aware he had a lady friend with him.”
Clementine focused on his kind face. “He didn’t. I live a good distance to the east. I was out shooting moose and found him in the snow. He’d been shot.”
“Shot?” Mr. Paulson’s expression widened with surprise. “Is he …”
“Alive, but barely. I kept him with me for a day, but his leg has grown worse. I didn’t have a working radio, so he convinced me to go to his cabin, as it was closer. But on arriving, I found it burnt to the ground.”
“Burnt to the ground?” This came from Mrs. Paulson. She’d returned with a mug of coffee and pressed it into Clementine’s hands.
Clementine took a sip. “Yes, and deliberate.” She paused. Should she tell them about the footprints?
Mr. Paulson leaned forward in his chair. “It’s the gold. Someone’s always thinking it’s on that land and trying to dig it up. I haven’t seen anyone come by here recently though.”
“Miss Button, wasn’t it?” Mrs. Paulson asked.
Clementine nodded.
“Where is Ezekiel? You said he needed help?”
Clementine sat the coffee on the table in front of her and stared at the light reflected in its dark depths. “He needs medical care. Infection has set into his leg , and he’s too weak to walk. I left him in a teepee he said belonged to George. I must get back. I …”
“You can’t go tonight,” Mr. Paulson interrupted.
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