Chapter Five of A Christmas Blizzard

Good afternoon, y'all! 

Today there will be no Horse Breed or Color of the Day, sadly, just the chapter of A Christmas Blizzard. Tomorrow is the deadline for entering the competition; so if you have photos, please enter them now. 

Can't wait for the voting! 

Hope y'all enjoy today's chapter! 

Chapter Five

Kate felt herself slipping away; she was so tired and she knew it wasn’t long before she’d fall off Prince and die, frozen, on the ground.

You’ve got to stay awake. But she about ready to give up; she was numb, blinded, and her brain wouldn’t function.

Suddenly, Prince’s hind quarters fell. Kate nearly toppled off the saddle backwards. Prince screamed and sat down. Then Kate realized they weren’t stopped; they were sliding!

Prince had stepped onto a frozen river going down a hill and now they were slipping down the hill on her colt’s rump like a kid on a slide in the park (of course, that’s not what she was thinking, but that’s the best I can describe it). Kate started to laugh as they flew down the hill. She suddenly realized that sun was streaming through the clouds, the swirling, angry storm moving on. She breathed a sigh of relief, but pain radiated about her whole face, and her body. When Prince came to a skidding stop in the valley, Kate struggled to move. Her legs wouldn’t cooperate. Eventually she cried out in exasperation and fear. What had happened? And they were still lost!

“Gracious!” a voice said from behind the tuckered colt, who had laid down, and the sobbing girl. “What’re ya’s doin’ out here, so far from home?”

Kate continued to cry, not caring who was talking. It sounded like a woman, with a slow, western accent.

“Dear’st me,” the voice continued. “Ya got caught in the storm, didncha?”

Kate finally looked up. A sun-tanned, leather-cheeked woman stood in front of her. Her long black braid was streaked with silver, but her lean, tall, muscular frame and the way her skin was pulled tight over her cheekbones showed that this woman was a true cowgirl, used to the hardships of western life.

“Yer practically frozen,” the woman soothingly murmured. With the strength of Kate’s pa, she swept her from the saddle and started to carry her from the colt. Kate opened her mouth to protest, but the lady cut her off. “I’ll see t’ the colt, missy, but first we got t’ take care of you.”

Kate tried to struggle, but her weak muscles brought her nowhere. Pleased, the older lady kept walking and soon they came upon a snowy homestead. Smoke poured from the chimney and a rough corral with two horses wrapped around the sprawling oak tree. The house was embedded in the rocky wall of the two hills that cupped to make the valley. A rocky overhang threatened to break any moment, right over what looked like a storage shed.

“Welcome t’ my place,” the woman drawled. She kicked the rickety door open and walked inside. It was rather neat and tidy, surprisingly, and a fire crackled in the hearth merrily. The woman laid Kate in the soft seat beside the fire and started to strip her from her soaked, icy garments. Eventually Kate sat bundled by the fire in a wool blanket, a hat, and gloves with a hot cup of hot cocoa in her hands.

“My name’s Bertha Sharp,” the woman said. “I live here, with my two sons and husband. They be Mark and Brody, my husband’s Dan.”

Kate’s eyes widened. “My name is Katelyn Reed.”

“Yer a might young t’ be outside by yerself in a blizzard,” Bertha said. “What were ya doin’, anyway?”

“I was on a ride,” Kate explained, her teeth finally ceasing in their constant clatter, “when the storm hit.” She looked around. “Please, Mrs. Sharp, my horse.”

“Dan’s got ’im,” she waved her hand. “He was there, too, ya know.”

“No, I didn’t know.” Kate’s belly growled loudly and she reddened. “Pardon me.”

“No need t’ excuse yerself,” Bertha laughed, black eyes twinkling. She hurried to the stove. “Hungry?”

“Very.” Kate smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Sharp.”

“Bertha,” the woman corrected, waving her hand as she pulled chicken and rye’n’injun bread from the pantry. She placed a slice of rye’n’injun on a plate beside two fried chicken legs. She dumped a portion of apples’n’onions there, too. With a fork, Bertha brought Kate the meal, who devoured it immediately. She washed it down with milk and smiled wryly at Bertha. “Thank you very much.”

“Yer very welcome.”

There was a sudden booming laugh and a huge mountain of a man entered the cabin.

Kate’s eyes widened and fear engulfed her. Who in the world was this hulking monster? He sported a full beard, a bushy line of eyebrow straight across his forehead, and a mop of dark hair. He was not unclean, though, but washed, wearing a cotton shirt, suspenders, and denim pants with boots.

“Howdy, kid,” the man boomed. His voice seemed to rattle the house, along with Kate. “My name’s Dan; the missus probably already introduced me; call me Pa, everyone does.”

Kate was speechless. Pa? Nobody’s “Pa” but my father.

“Dan Sharp, ya can’t ’spect her t’ call ya Pa, she’s already got one,” scolded Bertha. She

turned to Kate. “Ya do, don’t ya?”

“I do,” Kate replied meekly. “Thomas Reed, of the Double Diamond Ranch.”  

“Tommy has a daughter?” Disbelief scattered Dan’s words.

He knows Pa. But it wasn’t very friendly the way Dan said Papa’s name. His eyes held a secret, looking haunted with fear, sorrow, and joy all at the same time.

“Four, in fact,” Kate said, turning to Dan. “And two sons.”

“Well, I’ll be.” Dan sat down in a chair, one that looked like it would surely break under his generous weight. He slipped into silence, thoughtfully contemplating.

Or is he reliving memories I want no part of? Kate wondered, watching his eyes become sadder. She turned to Bertha, questioning, but the woman only cleared her throat, stuck her head out of the door, and shouted, “BRODY, MARK, YA GIT IN HERE RIGHT THIS SECOND OR I’LL TAN YER DOUBLE-CROSSIN’ HIDES!”

Kate suppressed a giggle as two yelping replies answered her yell. Two manly young men crashed inside, laughing. Both had a head of dark hair, but one was curly. They were both about seventeen, and their muscles showed through their shirts. They weren’t as heavy as Dan, but more lean like Bertha.

Kate ducked her head as a sudden red flush erupted from the neck and exploded in her cheeks like a blossoming rose. She couldn’t look at the taller one, who seemed older. His sharp blue gaze was . . . Kate found herself grimacing. What was wrong with her?  

“Shush, you two,” their mother admonished. “We have company.”

Both boys stopped laughing and looked at Kate. She looked up and made eye contact with both. When she met contact with the blue-eyed one, she felt immediately awkward and giddy. She wasn’t sure what the feeling was; was it joy? Embarrassment? Fear?

What surprised her and made her feel even more odd was when the taller one swallowed nervously as well and seemed to want to look away, but couldn’t. So Kate did.

Bertha prodded the shorter, curly-haired one. He protested, then waved. “Hi. My name is Mark.”

“Nice to meet you, Mark,” Kate replied. “I’m Kate.”

“This is Brody, my big brother by fifteen months.” Mark jerked his thumb in Brody’s direction. Brody cleared his throat and bowed. “Howdy, miss. How do you do?”

Kate couldn’t help giggle. “I’m very good, thank you. How are you?”

“Pleased to meet you, I am,” Brody said. He winked. “Where’d Ma fine such a pretty girl?” he bantered.

Kate blushed and dropped her eyes.

“Brody Sharp, you behave.” But amusement flickered in Bertha’s cheery gaze. “This little lady got stuck out in the storm. ’Bout killed herself.”

Kate started breathing heavy, reliving the terror of her storm encounter.

Dan still hadn’t said a word. Now he was staring, transfixed, into the fire.

Kate narrowed her eyes. What is bothering him? Surely it doesn’t have to do with Papa!

Push HERE to read Chapter Six

~IZZY WEST