Chapter 5 - THE BLIZZARD'S FURY
By eight o'clock that evening, the storm outside had escalated into a full-scale whiteout blizzard. The wind shrieked through the eaves of the manor house like a dying animal, dumping three feet of fresh powder over the valley and dropping temperatures far below zero.
In the housekeeper's quarters, Sarah was packing their small carpetbag. Her hands were steady, but her eyes were heavy with grief. She had failed. In twelve hours, she and Penny would be back on the freezing streets of Laramie with nowhere to go.
Penny sat on the edge of the bed, quietly hugging her rag doll. "Are we going home, Mommy?"
Sarah stopped packing and sat beside her daughter, pulling the little girl into her lap. "We're going to find a new home, sweetheart. Don't you worry."
Meanwhile, in the study, Garrett sat in total darkness. The fire had died down to a few glowing embers. He held the small lead soldier Penny had dropped in his hands, turning it over and over between his calloused fingers.
Sarah's words kept repeating in his mind, louder than the howling wind outside: You're just burying yourself alive in his grave.
Garrett stood up, rubbing his face with both hands. He walked out into the cold hallway, his boots carrying him back toward the east wing.
He stood in the doorway of his son's bedroom. For five years, he had treated this room as a shrine to his pain. He had thought that keeping it untouched preserved William's spirit. But looking at it now, in the dim moonlight, it didn't look like a shrine. It looked like a tomb. Cold, lifeless, and filled with dark dust.
Suddenly, a commotion sounded from the lower floor.
Higgins came running up the main staircase, his usual pristine appearance completely shattered. He was out of breath, his face pale with dread.
"Mr. Thorne! Mr. Thorne!" Higgins called out.
Garrett stroged out into the hallway. "What is it, Higgins?"
"It's the west barn, sir! The heavy snow accumulation... the roof beam snapped! The structure has partially collapsed on the winter heifers!"
Garrett's eyes narrowed instantly. "Where are the hands?"
"Most of them are trapped at the bunkhouse by the eight-foot drift across the yard! Only young Sam and old Bob are in the stables!"
"Get the snow shovels and lanterns," Garrett ordered, his leadership instincts taking over instantly. "Tell Sam to prep the draft horses!"
Garrett ran down the stairs, pulling on his heavy buffalo-skin coat and leather gloves. As he reached the mudroom, Sarah stepped out into the corridor, wrapped in her wool shawl.
"What happened?" Sarah asked, seeing the panic in Higgins' eyes.
"The barn collapsed," Garrett said briefly, pulling his hat down tight over his ears. "I have to go out."
Sarah looked out the small glass window of the mudroom door. Outside was a wall of pure, swirling white chaos. A man could lose his bearings ten feet from the porch and freeze to death in minutes.
"You can't go out there alone in this!" Sarah cried out, reaching for his arm. "The wind will knock you off your feet!"
Garrett looked down at her hand on his sleeve. Despite everything he had said to her four hours ago, her eyes were filled with genuine terror for his life.
"I have to save those animals, Sarah," Garrett said quietly. "It's my responsibility."
"Then I'm coming with you," Sarah declared, grabbing a thick wool coat from the wall hook.
"No! It's too dangerous!"
"I can haul timber and handle a team of horses as well as any ranch hand you hire!" Sarah shouted over the wind. "You need help, Garrett Thorne! Stop trying to do everything alone!"
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Garrett stared at her for two seconds, then gave a single, tight nod. "Tie a safety line around your waist. If you lose sight of me, follow the rope back to the porch."
Together, they pushed open the heavy wooden door and plunged out into the freezing, roaring white hell.
