Free Blizzard: Colorado, 1886 by Kathleen Duey and Karen A. Bale Page A

wind gets bad before morning, we could end up stuck in these rocks until it drops again. And besides, there’s firewood down there.”
    â€œFirewood,” Hadyn echoed.
    Maggie nodded wearily. “Come on.” She started down the fissure, glancing back three or four timesto make sure he was following. Her legs felt like lead and her whole body ached. But she knew she still had work to do. She could only hope that Hadyn would be able to help her.
    Maggie went slowly—she had no choice. It was getting hard to see. Hadyn managed to keep up most of the way. Maggie waited for him at the top of the incline above the krummholz, snow swirling around them.
    â€œDown there?” Hadyn asked, coming to stand beside her.
    Maggie nodded. “Can you make it?” She swayed on her feet, desperate to get going, to get a fire made.
    Without answering, Hadyn started forward cautiously. Maggie waited until he was halfway down, then followed. He lost his footing and sat down hard, skidding the last dozen feet to the bottom. He came to rest a few feet from her bundle of firewood.
    Maggie felt an absurd laugh rising in her throat. It was all she could do to keep from giggling as he stood up, brushing at his pants. She took the bedroll from him and dusted off the icy soil.
    â€œGo under,” Maggie instructed Hadyn.
    â€œWhat?” he said, frowning at her.
    â€œUnder the branches. It’s sheltered in there, almost like a snow cave.”
    Hadyn hesitated, so Maggie went past him, ducking beneath the twisted limbs. “Come on, Hadyn.”
    Maggie waited, bent over, until he had made his way into the still, dark shelter of the krummholz. Then she dragged the firewood bundle in after them. “Get the matches out,” she ordered Hadyn, pushing the knapsack into his arms as he sat down.
    While Hadyn fumbled through the pack, Maggie laid a fire in the pit she had dug, making sure there were no dry, overhanging branches. She used tiny twigs to start with, layering them closely. She wished for a little paper, or even dry moss, but that was impossible, she knew. Adding slightly bigger twigs to the pile, she turned and looked at Hadyn.
    â€œHere,” he said, holding out the little waxed box.
    Maggie took the matches from him and struck one, cupping her hands around the flame. She lowered it to the dry tinder. The flame flickered and popped, growing.
    â€œGod,” Hadyn breathed. “A fire.”
    Maggie didn’t answer him, but she knew he wasn’t swearing. It had been a prayer of thanks. Theflame seemed like a miracle to her, too. It crackled, spreading slowly at first, then more quickly. Within a few minutes, they had a real campfire. Maggie sat so close to it that the soles of her shoes steamed and she could smell the wool of her coat. Still, she wanted to get closer. The orange firelight glowed on the branches above them.
    â€œI really thought I was going to die, Maggie.”
    Maggie looked up. “You came close. We both did. And we still have a long way to go.”
    The instant she saw the fear leap back into his eyes, Maggie was sorry she had said what she did. But it was true, and there was no point in babying him. Or herself.
    â€œI’m sorry, Maggie,” Hadyn said. “I should never have left like that.”
    She stared at him. His face looked odd; dark shadows framed his eyes in the flickering light of the fire. She didn’t know what to say. He was right—it was all his fault. But she had never expected him to admit it.
    â€œI lost Rusty. I had him tethered to a log and he slipped his bridle.” Maggie hadn’t known that she was going to say this, but as soon as she did, her eyes flooded with tears.
    â€œYour mule?” Hadyn’s voice was respectful for once, not teasing or mean.
    Maggie nodded. “Maybe he’ll make it home. He’s smart.” She wiped at her eyes.
    Hadyn cleared his throat. “I really am