When she and her family had left Kentucky for these mountains she had no thoughts of anything going so terribly wrong. She was happy there, with the rolling green hills and warm weather but the promise of gold had offered more than enough incentive for her parents. Being young and dependant she was obliged to not speak her piece, not that it would have done any good. She would have cried now had the fear of the tears freezing on her cheeks not come to mind.

Through narrowed eyes she scanned the flurried horizon and saw it. Was the soft glow the portal of heaven opening up before her? Or merely an illusion brought on by the cold?

With aching fingers she pulled her worn coat tighter around her and lifted her leaden legs. Hope sparked. It was not death's lantern but the warm glow from a window. Through chattering teeth she mumbled a silent prayer and then screamed. She screamed again and again, knowing that the wind took her cries away … away from her but toward the light.

        Her dark hair blew, sticking to her skin. Oh, she was so miserable. Every inch of her covered in snow. Her lower lip had split and blood froze to her chin but she didn’t have the strength to swipe it away. Her leather shoes soaked through, her skirts heavy, her shabby coat helping little against the wind that bit through to her skin. No, beyond her skin to the bone.

        Determination took hold and she forced her body to move faster. The light grew brighter. Taking in a deep breath she bellowed with all that was left of her strength, “Oh dear God. Please help me!

                            ***

His eyes flew open and he shuddered. That was the most realistic shriek he had heard yet. He knew he was losing his mind. Not only did she haunt his dreams, but she also haunted his waking hours. Dear lord, the call still echoed in the room. The echo faded and he stared up at the rough hewn beams above. Perhaps he should go. Perhaps he should let the weather take him. To be with her was all he ever really wanted anyway. He listened for the call again, if it came, he would go. He wasn’t afraid of dying.

 “Oh dear God, please help me.”

There it was again. The agonized call. She needed him. He jumped to his feet and ran to the door. The sight before him nearly knocked him back inside. There she was, pale, bloody, a terrible sight. She had come back to him only to die. Her hair stuck to her cheeks and she seemed so small huddled beneath her tatty coat.

“Please let me in. I-I’m so very cold." She raised her gaze to him, large gray eyes. This was not her. Her eyes were brown, rich brown, soft brown. Biting back the sting of disappointment, he stared at the creature before him for a moment longer before pulling her inside.

She leaned against him. The chill radiating from her body into his. When he raised her into his arms, her head lolled against his chest.

"You must be an angel," she whispered.

She's obviously hallucinating.

He struggled to shut the door with his foot, the wind beating against it to be let back in. The creature was light and frail as he made his way to the fireplace. He deposited her on his makeshift bed on the floor and stared at her in wonder. Never before had he felt a live body this cold. Her skin had a blue hue and unmelted snowflakes clung to her cheeks and eye lashes. He didn’t know how she’d lived this long and wasn’t sure she would survive the night.

 “I-I’m afraid,” she whimpered. Again the gray eyes were upon him, large and pleading. Taking up the bellows, he brought the heat up and added more logs. He only added two, he wanted his supply to last all winter and he didn’t suppose she would last much longer. He stared at the unused bed in the corner and his heart clenched. The creature would need the blanket. With resignation, he shook off the blanket before wrapping it about her. He then gave her a mug of coffee with a splash of whiskey, those too he had wanted to ration.

Clearing his throat as if to clear away cobwebs, he said,  “Take off those wet things." He started away to offer privacy but she called after him.

“My f-fingers, they won’t move." Her voice was shaky. “Oh, my poor fingers.” He should have realized that. Even if she were to live she may not be able to keep all her fingers and toes. He sighed and began to help her undress.

                    ***

He stood before her. She looked up at him again, and then away. What would Ma think? She brought her gaze back to his face as slowly, his fingers began to unto the buttons of her coat. He tossed the frozen garment to the floor before starting on the gown. He had large fingers and they worked quickly and efficiently at disrobing her, his eyes not leaving the task.

A good foot taller than she, with wide shoulders and strong arms, she thought she should be frightened of him. He had dark wavy hair and intense green eyes. Although his face was covered by a full beard and his hair flowed down his back she wasn’t afraid.

He pushed her gown back and gently tugged the sleeves. Again she asked herself, “What would Ma think?" She couldn’t worry with that. Her Ma hadn’t come back for her and in the beginning she just knew she would. Where was her family? Had they allowed the snow to deter them from looking for her? Or were they stuck unaware somewhere dying? She had only wandered a short distance away, gone to the stream for water. But she had slipped and bumped her head. Had she been unconscious that long? When she finally awoke, snow was falling. She rushed to where they had been. They were gone and the snow was covering their tracks. Her head still ached. The man touched the tender spot and she winced. “Ouch, that hurts.”

“How did this happen?” he asked, his voice flat.

“I fell.”

“It’s dirty."

“So am I.”

He nodded and pulled at her skirts. “Who were you traveling with?”

“My family.”

“Where are they?”

“I don’t know.”

He sighed.

She was naked now and he lifted the blanket and wrapped it about her. The distant memory of making love to Sarah flashed fresh through mind at the sight of the creature's lovely body. Her breasts were round and her waist narrow. He felt a twinge of guilt at the idea of another woman’s body gaining his attention. Sarah was all he needed.

He held the steaming mug to her lips and she took a drink, nearly choking. “Take it slow girl.”

“But it burns,” she stated “What is it?”

He didn’t answer, just looking at her as he set the mug down on the mantle. "I'm going to heat you some water," he informed and walked the ten steps to the pantry. He’d have to get her fingers and toes warm. Her feet were worse than her hands but he’d do the best for her. If Sarah were here, she would have approved, wouldn’t she?

Once the water was heated, she soaked her hands just as he had ordered. He knew she must be in agony but she didn’t complain. He liked that. She also drank all the coffee in the mug.

She watched him as he went to refill the cup. He had once been handsome but there was a sorrow in his face. The ragged beard and unkempt hair did not detract from his eyes. They were a beautiful green with long dark lashes but they were sad, with deep down sadness. She had seen it before in her neighbor, Mrs. Harrison when Mr. Harrison had died. It was unmistakable.

Seated before the fire he had ordered her to put her hands into a bowl of warm water. She did but the burn was almost unbearable and tears streamed down her cheeks. She wanted to protest but he knew what to do, didn’t he? He was a mountain man accustomed to this sort of thing, wasn’t he?

He gently splashed the water over the tops of her hands. Squatted before her with his head bent, firelight caught shades of blue in his curly hair. Just like the blackbirds back home. She was getting tired now.

He looked up and the sudden sound of his voice caused her to jump. “You got a name, girl?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Well … what is it?”

“Bobby.”

He laughed. “Bobby?”

She smiled. He had a nice laugh. “Well, not really. Roberta is my given name. My father’s Robert and I was the fist born, but I feel like Bobby suits me best.”

“All right, Bobby, I’m David. Tell me how your fingers feel?”

David, she liked his name, it was a good strong name. He was good and strong. “They hurt a lot and the water really burns. It feels like I’m sticking my hand in a fire.”

“I know,” he said with a hint of sympathy. “Your feet are next.”

She cringed at the idea but allowed him to care for her. She sucked in a breath when her toes hit the liquid fire but when he began to gently massage them she relaxed a bit. Again a feeling of tiredness wrapped around her.

“Are you hungry?”

She barely had the strength to nod. How long had it been since she had anything to eat? It had been so long that her stomach had ceased asking to be fed.

David disappeared into another room and returned with a bowl of dry porridge. He added hot water and stirred it before spoon-feeding her. She ate quickly, her body trembling as she resisted the urge to grab the bowl and down it in one gulp. She couldn’t remember anything ever tasting so good, despite the fact it was bland with no sugar, butter or milk. He set the empty bowl down and she thanked him and smiled.

He didn’t smile back. “Did you get enough to eat?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“How are your fingers and toes feeling?”

“Better, I suppose. They still hurt but not at all as they did. Mostly I feel tired.”

"I see," he said adding another log to the fire. “How long were you walking?”

“Oh, all day yesterday and all night the night before. I just kept walking. I didn’t dare go to sleep.”

He again left the room, this time returning with a white linen gown. “Can you put this on?”

She bent her fingers again and winced. He sighed and helped her dress. This time she kept the blanket over her until the gown was over her head. He helped her guide her arms through the loose fabric of the sleeves. His hands shook this time as he fastened the buttons of the nightgown. She looked up at him questioningly but his eyes would not meet hers. “David?” she asked but he didn’t answer.

There was a long moment before he walked away and she resumed her spot before the fire. She tried several times to situate her blanket on the floor but her hands wouldn’t cooperate and she quickly became frustrated.

David came to her and took the blanket. “You take the bed,” he ordered.

She shook her head. “No, I can’t allow you to …”

 “Just do what I say." His words spoke of anger.

“But …”

He silenced her by lifting her up and setting her gently onto the straw mattress. It smelled of dust but it felt good. He placed a blanket atop her and started away but she reached for him, her aching hand touching his arm. He stopped. “Thank you. Without you I would have died. You saved my life this night.”

He nodded again, the sadness in his eyes pronounced. "You're welcome."

                    ***

Bobby sat up in bed. She searched the room with frantic eyes for David. He wasn’t about. Her mind raced. What if he had gone? What if he had deserted her? She would die without him. She threw off the covers and called to him. She set her aching feet down upon the cold floor and attempted to rise. “David, where are you?" Panic filled her voice as she stood and stumbled to the pantry, but he wasn’t there. “Oh God,” she moaned, “Where are you?”

She turned at hearing the front door open. Uncaring of her state of dress, she rushed toward him. He dropped the logs he carried and slammed the door. “What are you doing …” he began but his face filled with confusion. She was coming toward him. She looked like a wild animal, her reddish brown hair hanging in clumped strands, blood from her cracked lip gathering at her chin. Her eyes answered his questions. She was frightened and when she reached him he instinctively put his arms about her. Tears flooded down her cheeks.

“I thought you had gone, left me. I was so scared of being left.”

He smoothed her hair. “It’s all right dear." He tried to soothe her. She buried her face in his sheepskin jacket. “I won’t leave you. Don’t fret.”

She must felt safe in his arms for he could feel her relax against him. How was it his words worked like a tonic? “Besides,” he added, “Where would I go?”

Her face reddened and she pulled away. “You must think me a silly girl.”

“Girl yes, silly no." He started to gather the logs he had dropped. “I also think you’re a fighter. I didn’t really expect to see you this morning, last night your circumstance seemed pretty grim.” He could feel her watching him as he stacked the wood neatly by the hearth. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes, please.”

“Go lie back down and I’ll get you something. You don’t need to be up and about so soon.”

He was about to disappear around the corner when she said, “I’m seventeen and will be eighteen soon enough.”

He had thought her no older than sixteen. Sarah had been but seventeen when they married and eighteen when she died. “Soon?” he found himself asking.

“Yes, November 4^th. We were to be settled by then." Her voice grew soft. “We were to celebrate it in our new home. Pa supposed we’d come to Colorado and we’d hit gold or silver. There were so many people at Pike’s Peak that he decided it was best to go further into the mountains. Ma wanted to go back to Kentucky." She paused a moment. “David, do you suppose I’ll be able to find them?”

 “I don't know."

When he returned a few moments later with a plate of food he set it on her lap. He began to feed her the warm grits, canned peaches and smoked meat. She drank warm tea and tasted a hint of sugar. “This is really good. Thank you.”

He offered a weak smile.

“How is it you are here?”

He didn’t want to answer and a silence grew between them. “I’m sorry” she whispered, “It’s not my place to ask.”

“No, it’s all right." He cleared his throat. “This is my cabin, my land. I lived here with my wife … she died.”

“I’m sorry.”

He stood, taking up the plate. “Not your concern,” he grumbled and turned away. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, I did. But you know, I would like a bath. I’m a mess, I truly am.”

He didn’t know if it was a good idea to get her wet all over but if he knew women, if he knew Sarah, she would want to be clean and have her hair combed and her hands wrapped. So, that’s what he’d do for Bobby.

He warmed the water and started the bath. She managed to remove her gown this time only needing him to undo the buttons. He was relieved. He didn’t know what it was about being close to her but he thought the more distance the better. As Bobby bathed he went through Sarah’s things, finding her a gown to wear when she was feeling better and a fresh nightgown. She would eventually need all of Sarah’s things and it bothered him. The idea of seeing someone else in her clothes would be almost torture. She could have everything but the pearl combs. Those were the only thing of value Sarah’s parent’s had given her and they had become a source of pride for his late wife. Sarah had spoken of how they would go to their first born daughter and if they only had sons to the wife of the eldest son. They had planned everything from they day the married to the day they would be united in heaven. Now he lived everyday with the knowledge that plans meant nothing. If he died tomorrow, it wouldn’t matter.

Tears stained his cheeks as he caressed one of the smooth combs. He had all he ever wanted for a very short time. How was he supposed to live the many years he might, knowing that it would never be as good as it had been?

Bobby could hear David shuffling about the main room. She gingerly washed her body and tried to get the bits and pieces of the forest that had gathered in her hair out but everything was difficult due to the condition of her hands.

        She soaked a few moments thinking of how she wanted to question David of his past. She couldn’t understand why he stayed in such a place if it made him so miserably sad. It was beautiful here but so dangerous. He could be perfectly presentable if he’d get rid of that beard and cut his hair. He looked a bit like one of the wild men her brother was so fond of talking about. But he was such a good and kind man. Perhaps she could help him. He had been so caring toward her and he was alone and maybe he was scared too.

        Standing in the tub, she quickly dried off. She slipped back into the linen gown and dabbed at her hair with her towel before attempting to wrap the strands with the cloth. After several attempts she succeeded. Her hands were in a horrid state, as were her feet. They looked as if they had been underwater for years and they ached something fierce. She walked slowly to the main room where she saw David sitting on the bed. He looked so lost, his head lowered. He held something in his hand. His body trembled. It was strange to see such a large body shake. She had never seen a man do that before, not even her pa. She set her hand on his arm. He looked up suddenly, tears were in his eyes. He was crying.

        His sadness quickly left him and something akin to anger filled his face. “You get into that bed. You should have called me instead of walking around on that floor. You don’t want dirt in your wounds … you don’t want gangrene to set in, do you?”

        Horror made her heart flip flop. “Wounds? Gangrene?”

        “You don’t expect that skin to stay on do you?”

        “You don’t really think I’ll get gangrene do you? …Oh no, I mustn’t. Will I die? Will I lose my fingers and toes?”

        He shook his head. “I don’t know. You’ve got to be careful. I’ll do my part to see you through but you have to watch what you do too.”

        Her eyes filled with terrified tears. “I’ll do whatever you say. Thank you so much for all you’ve done.”

        “Well, I couldn’t leave you out there to die, could I?”

        She frowned. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She wanted reassurances; she needed him tell her nothing else bad would happen. She was so unsteady in her body and mind.

        “Now get into bed.” He pulled back the sheets and she climbed in. “I’m going to get some linen to bandage you up. I won’t be long.”

        While he was gone Bobby noticed that he had set out clothes for her. There was a gown, undergarments, a cloak, bonnet and even a fresh nightgown. He had hung her old clothes in front of the fire to dry. Everything was there except her shoes.

        When he returned with the strips of cloth she asked, “Where are my shoes?”

        “They’re outside. They’ll be of no use to you now. The leather’s ruined. Don’t you remember me cutting them off your feet last night? If I’d have pulled them off I might have taken some of your foot.”

        She felt the blood drain from her face. Had she been that dazed last night? What else could he have done had he had a mind to? She looked at him again. “I didn’t realize …”

        He didn’t say anymore, very unlike her brother and his friends. They were boisterous and crude. If she had to be honest with herself she doubted her brother would ever take the time to help her, even if she were dying. This man was different. He didn’t even know her and he had opened his home to her and offered her shelter, food and was even offering her his beloved wife’s belongings.

        It should have hurt when David wrapped her hands and feet but he was so gentle, careful and considerate. It was as if he had done this sort of thing before.

        "How does that feel?" he asked removing the towel from her hair.

"I can feel my heartbeat in my fingertips."

"Good." He reached out and lifted a lock of her hair from her shoulder, wrapping the curl around his fingertip. Their eyes locked for a moment and her breath caught in her throat. There was now something in his eyes she didn’t recognize and she looked away. He drew his hand back quickly and said, “When you’re better you can use Sarah’s comb and brush.”

        “Sarah?” There was the pained expression again, and she was sorry she spoke the name out loud. It was thoughtless; of course Sarah was his wife, his dead wife. She looked at her hands. He had just been crying over her. She felt like a childish fool.

        “What’s you full name?”

        “Roberta Louise Shallcross.”

        “David Robertson. Where are you from?”

        “Kentucky. I lived outside of Newport.”

        “You still have family there?”

        She shook her head. “No, it was just us …” Her voice trailed off, the realization of just how alone she was setting in. She turned her attention back to him “Where are you from?”

        “Tennessee.”

        “Oh, how did you come to be here? Were you looking for riches like Pa?”

        “No, why I’m here doesn’t matter anymore. The fact is I’m just here now.”

        “I’m thankful for that.”

        He turned his back to her. He didn’t want her gratitude and he was beginning to long for her absence. Once he could venture out he’d take her to Henry. Henry’d take her in and try to see her reunited with her family, if they lived, which he didn’t suppose they had. He needed her to be gone. She was treading on Sarah’s memory, sleeping in Sarah’s bed and wearing Sarah’s clothes. She was beautiful, kind and so grateful. He couldn’t have the temptation around. None of this would do.