Winter's Torment Read Online Free PDF Page B

released it, talked about it, would it lose its impact on her? He seemed to know what she was thinking. His next words proved it.
    “Winter, dealing with your grief won’t make it go away, but you can’t hold it inside. Grief has a way of eating you alive from the inside out. Once you put it into words, it loses some of its power to overwhelm you.”
    She stared at him, eyes wide. He sounded as if he spoke from experience.
    “I lost my little sister when I was a teenager,” he said, still rubbing her back, only a little slower now. “I blamed myself for years. If only… what ifs… I blamed myself for her loss.”
    Winter didn’t say anything, knowing that he had more to say.
    “We’d gone ice-skating on a pond near our house. I should’ve known the ice wasn’t thick enough, but I was young and foolish, and she was my shadow. Long story short, she fell through the ice. I couldn’t get to her in time.”
    Winter saw the pain etched into his features and knew that he was right. She would never stop grieving for the loss of her son, but she could move forward. Slowly, she spoke.
    “We were in a buggy accident,” she explained. “My husband was driving, in a hurry because we were running late for church. The buggy crashed and my son was flung from my arms. He died instantly. My husband blamed me.”
    “Is that why he divorced you?”
    She nodded, staring down at his hands, now covering hers, warming them.
    “But you do know that it wasn’t your fault, don’t you?”
    She nodded, warm tears now streaming down her cold cheeks.
    He sighed. “Grief is a terrible thing, Winter,” he said. “But through the grace of God, our hearts are patched up, not good as new, but stitched together so that they work okay. You understand what I’m saying?”

Scene 8
    The storm outside their cozy buffalo robe cocoon intensified. Pretty soon, according to Henry, it had turned into a full-blown blizzard. He stepped from their warm cocoon to bring his horse closer to the bushes, and made a little shelter for the mare as best he could. She stood on three legs, one hoof lifted from the snow, her back to the wind. When he returned to the warmth of the buffalo robe, he told Winter that his friend, William Linder, had taken a wagon loaded with supplies to his ranch, hoping to find her somewhere along the path.
    “I hope he’s safe at your ranch,” she said.
    “ Our ranch, Winter,” he corrected.
    She nodded. She felt humbled that a total stranger, no, two nearly total strangers, which included Henry, had risked their lives in a winter storm to save her. She realized that it had been foolish of her to venture out, but then again, she had no idea how quickly the weather could change out here on the plains.
    “You think he’s taken shelter?” she asked.
    Henry nodded. “Most certainly. He’s probably making himself more than comfortable at the ranch.” He grinned. “These storms are nothing unusual to us out here, and he’ll be safe, I promise.” He paused, seeming to be thinking about something. “I told Sarah that if we weren’t back in town within two hours to send out a search party, but with the change in weather, it’s doubtful that they will—”
    Just then the rattle of trace chains and rifle shots shattered the silence. It was then that Winter realized that the howling wind had eased. To her surprise, Henry suddenly loosened the end of the buffalo robe, letting in a blast of frigid air as he stood, dropping one end of the buffalo robe as he reached under his coat for his revolver, which he had tucked into his waistband.
    “What are you doing—”
    Her ears were left ringing, her nose inhaling the scent of gunpowder as Henry fired off three shots in rapid succession. Soon, the sound of rattling wagon trace chains approached.
    “Henry!”
    “Down here!” he hollered back. He turned to look at Winter, struggling to rise from her seated position. “Stay there,” he said.
    Winter did as she was told and