Chapter 25
Calvin hesitated.
Henrietta said, “Since sometime before dawn.”
“Traitor.”
“Yes.”
Mercer peeled back the torn leather and examined the foot. He swore under his breath. “Frostbite beginning. Fracture likely through the tibia, perhaps the fibula as well. You try to walk on this?”
“He tried.”
“I crawled.”
“Then you crawled stupidly.”
Henrietta gave Mercer a tired look. “He responds well to that tone.”
“I helped raise him. I know which tools work.”
Calvin grunted. “Everyone appears very pleased with themselves.”
Dr. Mercer glanced at Henrietta’s face, then down at the way she cradled her right knee. “And you?”
“I am not broken.”
“That was not the question.”
“My joints hurt.”
“They hurt before the storm?”
“Yes.”
“More now?”
“Yes.”
He touched her fingers. His expression darkened. “You two have turned hypothermia into a competition.”
Henrietta managed, “Who is winning?”
“Nobody. That is generally how dying works.”
Calvin’s face tightened.
Mercer caught the reaction and gave him a level stare. “Good. Fear has finally entered the household. Perhaps it will improve the decision-making.”
He worked quickly after that. He gave Calvin something bitter from a small bottle, splinted the leg more securely using narrow boards tied to his saddle, then wrapped Henrietta’s hands and ordered her onto the horse.
She refused.
Dr. Mercer did not argue. He simply looked at her until she said, “Calvin cannot ride alone.”
“Correct.”
“So—”
“So you sit behind me, and your husband goes across the saddle like a sack of flour.”
Calvin opened his eyes. “Absolutely not.”
Mercer began tightening a strap. “Marvelous. We found something less useful than your legs: your opinion.”
Getting Calvin onto the horse required all three of them, though Dr. Mercer did most of the lifting. Calvin nearly lost consciousness once, his face buried against the saddle as Henrietta steadied his shoulders. By the time Mercer mounted in front and pulled Henrietta behind him, she could barely close her hands around the doctor’s coat.
Calvin lay across the second horse, tied in place with blankets and rope.
He looked furious.
Henrietta found this reassuring.
The journey back took hours.
There were no dramatic speeches. Survival reduced them to smaller concerns: whether Calvin was breathing, whether the horses could cross a drift, whether Henrietta could keep her eyes open when warmth from the animal beneath her made sleep dangerously tempting. Dr. Mercer spoke every few minutes simply to force responses from them.