Winds of Change by Leah Atwood

would understand.
    It was for the best and he was at peace with what he’d determined as a solution. If only he could make it back to Weatherton.
    So cold. He couldn’t feel anything now. The sound of Sally Sue’s hooves clopping through the freshly fallen snow was the only sound he heard between the howling winds.
    “Please, God, see me through this storm. Let me make it back.”
    His eyes began to flutter. Tired. Maybe he would just close his eyes for a minute, keep the frigidness out for a bit. He blinked. No. Must keep them open . His head nodded and his chin drifted. He jerked it back up.
    Gripping the reins tighter, he pleaded with Sally Sue through chattering teeth. “Not much longer. You can do it.”
    He should have stayed in Pine Prairie. There was no reason to risk his life.
    “Keep. Your. Eyes. Open,” he shouted to himself, the words lost in the blizzard. “Stay. Awake.”
    Death was a certain outcome, he could feel it in his bones, right below the layer of numbness. No, he wasn’t giving in. He would make it to Candace tonight.
    She needed him. He needed her.
    His body slumped. He envisioned Candace waiting for him and forced himself upright.
    Sally Sue’s pace quickened. A new energy emanated from her and seeped into Patrick’s weakened body. Minutes later the faint outline of a building came into view, then a second one, and another. It was Weatherton. Thanks to Sally Sue, he’d made it.
    Thank goodness the layout of the town was imprinted on his memory. He could find his way to the Simpson’s house without any problem, even with the lack of visibility. Would anyone be awake? By his estimate, midnight was well behind him.
    He gave Sally Sue a pat. “Thank you, girl. I knew you could do it.”
    When they came to the Simpson’s place, he jumped off Sally Sue, stumbling in his haste. Looking through a window, he saw the faint glow of firelight through the closed drapes. He knocked on the door. No one answered, so he knocked again, louder and with more force to be heard above the wind. While he waited, he pulled the collar of his duster around his neck.
    Did he hear footsteps? He knocked a third time, then blew into his hands for warmth. The thuds came closer.
    “Who’s there at this hour?” The voice was croaky as if the person it belonged to had been asleep. Patrick recognized it as Glen Simpson.
    “Patrick Holden, Sir.”
    The door flew open, assisted by the wind. “Come in.”
    “Thank you.” He dusted the snow from him the best he could before stepping through the door.
    “What are you doing?” Glen asked. “We thought you’d have the good sense to stay in Pine Prairie until tomorrow.”
    “You know me.” Rubbing his hands, he wondered if he’d ever be warm again. “Is Candace here?”
    “Yes, the lot of your family’s inside but asleep. Shall I wake them?”
    “No, let them sleep.” He removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “Do you have somewhere I can put Sally Sue for the night?”
    “There’s a lean-to out back. She’ll be protected from the wind there.”
    “I’ll take care of her and be right back.” He didn’t move, his gaze drawn to the inviting warmth of the fire.
    “It’s been a while since I’ve made some, but I’ll put some coffee going. You must be freezing.” Glen glanced behind him for a second. “Come back in through the rear kitchen door. It will save you a trip around the house.”
    “Much obliged.”
    An hour later, he was burrowed in a makeshift bed on the floor near the fire. His bones still ached from his stint in the blizzard, and he thanked the Lord he’d made it safely and without frostbite. He couldn’t sleep, even knowing the house would come alive with activity in a few short hours. Thoughts of the future circulated his mind until doubt ridiculed him.
    The room was still dark, the sun not yet risen when the first footstep sounded. Patrick lay still, not sure if he should announce his presence yet. A slim outline walked to