“I know, baby,” she whispered, blinking rapidly. He couldn’t see her weak. Not right now. “I’ll see you when you wake up.”
“It’ll be a few days before the first hour we get.”
“Okay.” She hid the devastation from her face. “Can you make it to the cabin?”
Ian nodded once. “I love you, Elyse. Remember.” One eyebrow arched before he leaned over and kissed her.
He kicked his horse into a trot, and then into a gallop as he clung to the saddle horn.
She knew what he meant.
Remember all her lessons.
Remember how to defend herself.
Remember to be strong.
She doubled over Milo’s neck at the pain in her middle. She felt it down to her marrow—that had been goodbye. From here until April, she would only get a borrowed hour here and there.
As Ian disappeared into the falling snow, the weak tears she hadn’t allowed before slipped to her cheeks. He’d thought he would hibernate in mid-October, but the weather had turned bitterly cold early, and now two weeks had been stolen from them.
Wiping her damp lashes with the back of her work glove, she turned Milo and made her way toward the bawling cattle.
Across the herd, Josiah’s faint silhouette sat atop his mount, arm slung over the saddle horn as he hunched forward, face turned toward her. She couldn’t see his expression under the low rim of his hat, but she imagined it was marred with confusion and worry.
Elyse swallowed a sob and laid into the back of the herd with a new sense of urgency. Even if it was only for a little while, she didn’t like being separated from her mate.
Not when he was this vulnerable, and not when those damned McCalls were this close.
The last two miles took an eternity, and when she and Josiah had driven the cattle into their fenced pasture, she put out a couple bales of hay, broke the ice in their water trough, then pointed her attention to Demon, who was screaming like a banshee and running around the coral with his saddle still strapped to him.
He probably hadn’t enjoyed carrying Ian that last bit of the way, smelling like fur and predator. His nostrils were flared, and he huffed breath after steaming breath as he ran, ears back.
“You want me to unsaddle him?” Josiah asked, frowning at Demon.
“No, I’m going to let him tire himself out first. Don’t worry about it. You go on.” She handed him the keys to Ian’s truck. “Get home before this weather really opens up. I’ll keep Milo and Renegade in the barn until Demon settles.”
She took both sets of reins from where Renegade and Milo were tied at the fence. She made to head for the barn, but Josiah said, “Elyse?”
She froze and turned. “Yes?”
His eyes held a deep understanding that said he wasn’t as in the dark as she’d intended to keep him. “I know you’re stronger now. I can see it, but life out here still gets hard. It gets dangerous. If you need help this winter, you call me. No matter what it is, you call. You hear me?”
She swallowed hard and nodded. “I will.”
Josiah gave her a lingering, hard look, then strode for Ian’s truck without another word.
And as the engine roared to life and he drove away, she stood there watching until the glowing taillights disappeared altogether.
Then she turned her gaze on the dark house and let off a long, shuddering sigh.
Stalling, she put up the horses, unsaddled them, fed and watered them, and checked the goats. She wanted to cling to precious moments before she accepted what she already knew to be true—winter had defeated them. It didn’t matter how fiercely she loved Ian, she couldn’t keep him. Inside, her mate would be limp on the bed, and her heart would ache until he woke again.
The walk from the barn to the house was surreal, as if she was floating like the flakes of white snow that kicked up in the breeze all around her.
Inside, she turned on a lantern. He’d struggled to get through the house, and the entryway table had been knocked over. All of the ammunition that had been stacked there was scattered across the floor. The rug was flipped on the corner, and she stepped carefully over the mess to right the fallen vase on the kitchen table. Ian had filled them with late season flowers for her a few days ago, and now they were dry and dying. She felt like those withering flowers as she lifted the lantern into the bedroom and saw Ian lying at an angle across the mattress. From here, it was obvious how much his body had already slowed down. He was barely breathing.
She set the lantern on the dresser and curled up beside him, burying her face against his shoulder and inhaling his scent.
Ache bloomed wide and deep as a canyon inside of her.
Now, she was really alone.
And in the distance, the wolves howled on.
Chapter Twenty-Four