Love After Snowfall by Suzanne D. Williams Read Free Book Online Page A

and a last thread of energy before exiting to gather wood for a fire.
    A curl of smoke whisking out the flap overhead, she collapsed at last, lying beside him and nodding off. She awakened hours later, the glow of the fire low and Ezekiel’s breath blowing on her neck. She peeled herself away to restock the flames, then uncovered him and checked his leg. The infection was worse, and his skin scalding.
    He needed some form of nourishment, but was most likely past consuming solid food. She’d make a broth.
    Melting snow in an iron pot, she dropped in a portion of meat and a few bones and set them to simmer, then dug out a bowl and sat it at the edge of the flames.
    Ezekiel’s cough spun her around. He stared up at her. “Clem.”
    She dropped to his side, her hand on his cheek.
    “Thought maybe I was dead and this was heaven, seeing you here.”
    She scowled. “I’m hardly fit for heaven, and you promised not to die.”
    His face became a grimace. “Working … on that …”
    “I’m making you some broth,” she said. “It’s important to get nourishment in you.”
    He nodded and looked past her at the teepee. “Where’s … where’s the cabin? We didn’t reach it?”
    The cabin. She’d known he wasn’t conscious when she’d spoken earlier.
    “We got there,” she said, “ but it was gone. Someone burnt it to the ground.”
    “Burnt? But …”
    “It was on purpose,” she added.
    He silenced.
    “Who is after you? Why would they burn your cabin and chase so far to shoot you in the leg?”
    He exhaled. “There was a story I heard when I first built there.” He paused to gather himself. “ Story said someone had buried gold there years ago. George …” He gave a loud grunt.
    “George? The man who told you about teepees?”
    He nodded, his cheek scrubbing the bedding. “This one’s his.”
    She glanced around the circular walls. It was snug and appeared to be well-built.
    “Lie with me, Clem.”
    She curled herself beneath the blankets at his side, her face turned toward his.
    He brushed her lips with his own. “Does me good to feel you there,” he whispered.
    She wrapped an arm about him.
    “Did I imagine it, or did you cry over me?” he asked.
    “It wa s a weak moment. I … I thought you were dying.”
    He laughed softly, the sound pleasing to her ears, but strained in his throat with evident pain.
    “I don ’t see what’s funny about that,” she replied. “Nathan died, and I was left here with no one.”
    Ezekiel clutched her hand s between them. “Tell me what happened. I want to know.”
    She closed her eyes, tears welling upward. She could no longer keep it to herself. He wanted to know, and he deserved to know.
    The truth fell out. “I shot him.”
     
    ***
     
    Ezekiel sucked in a faltering breath. “You … you did?”
    Unexpected. He’d pictured her husband’s death in many ways, mostly illness, but never injury and not at her hands. She was so capable now.
    She bobbed her head, and a sob escaped. “In the chest. I was green and didn’t have good aim, but thought to impress him. I didn’t know he’d gone that direction. I heard the noise in the bushes and fired.”
    Her sob became a wail. “Don’t die, Nathan. Please, don’t die. I didn’t mean to. I wanted to be what you’ve asked of me. I wanted to learn.”
    “ Shhh …” Ezekiel made the sound and laid his palm on the back of her head. “It’s me, Ezekiel, not Nathan, and I’m alive.”
    She flipped her face upward and grasped at his cheeks, drawing the ir mouths together. Her hunger was evident in the motion, and desperation, and grief. She moved her lips to his cheeks. “I love you,” she said. “I love you.”
    But what of that was for Nathan and what was for him? He kept his question inside.
    She stilled at last, her fingers clutching at him. “He lived only one day afterward. I should have gone for help, but didn’t. I was too afraid to see people again, too embarrassed by my failure. You’re