PART 2 — THE WIFE HE REJECTED BECAME THE ONLY PERSON WHO COULD SAVE HIM

The first thing Adelaide noticed was the blood.

It had dried along the side of Gidrick’s temple, disappearing beneath his dark hair. His breathing was shallow, and every few moments his body jerked beneath the blankets as another wave of fever pᴀssed through him.

She knelt beside the stove and pressed a cool cloth against his forehead.

“Gidrick, can you hear me?”

He didn’t answer.

Outside, the blizzard continued battering the cabin. Snow piled against the windows, and the wind made the old wooden walls groan as though the mountain itself were trying to tear them apart.

Adelaide had never been more frightened.

She had spent her entire life watching people become ill. Her father had owned a small apothecary in Missouri, where she had learned to identify medicinal plants, prepare simple remedies, clean wounds, and recognize when an illness required a physician.

But she had never treated someone she desperately wanted to save.

Especially not a man who had spent the past month making her feel unwanted.

She opened her enormous trunk.

Inside were carefully labeled jars, bundles of dried herbs, clean linen, a small medical reference book, and several bottles of tinctures she had prepared before leaving Missouri.

Her hands moved quickly.

First, she examined the wound on Gidrick’s head. The cut was deep but appeared to have stopped bleeding. His shoulder was badly bruised, and his left leg was swollen from the accident.

She cleaned the wound, covered it with fresh linen, and checked his breathing again.

His fever worried her most.

She prepared warm water, used a familiar mild herbal infusion for comfort, and placed fresh cloths around his forehead and neck. She knew herbs could not cure every illness, especially one complicated by an injury, so she prayed the weather would improve enough for her to reach the nearest doctor.

Then Gidrick began speaking.

“No…”

Adelaide leaned closer.

“Gidrick?”

His eyes remained closed.

“Abigail… don’t go outside.”

Adelaide froze.

He was dreaming about his first wife.

“Please… I can’t lose you again.”

The words escaped him with such anguish that Adelaide felt something тιԍнтen inside her chest.

For the first time, she understood how deeply the mountain had wounded him.

She gently adjusted his blanket.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “You’re not alone.”

His hand suddenly caught her wrist.

“Don’t leave me.”

Adelaide looked down at his fingers.

For a man who had refused to share his bed with her, he was now holding on as though she were the only thing keeping him alive.

“I won’t leave you tonight.”

She stayed beside him until morning.

At sunrise, his fever had not broken.

Adelaide looked through the window.

The world outside had disappeared beneath an endless white blanket. The trail leading down the mountain was completely buried, and the nearest settlement was impossible to reach.

She needed help.

She also needed to make the cabin last.

After checking Gidrick again, she went to the barn. The livestock needed water, and the hay supply had to be protected from the snow.

Her boots sank into the drifts.

She worked until her shoulders ached, then returned to prepare another warm meal.

When she entered the cabin, Gidrick was awake.

His eyes followed her as she removed her gloves.

“What happened?”

“You fell beneath a pine tree.”

He tried to sit up.

A sharp expression crossed his face.

“Don’t move,” she said.

His eyes narrowed.

“Don’t give me orders.”

Adelaide stopped.

For one moment, the old hurt returned.

Then she looked at the bandage around his head.

“Very well. Consider it a suggestion from the woman who dragged you half a mile through a blizzard.”

Gidrick stared at her.

“What?”

“You were unconscious. I found you beneath a fallen tree. If I hadn’t brought you back, you would have remained out there.”

He looked toward the window.

Then back at her.

“You carried me?”

“Not exactly. I dragged you.”

Despite his weakness, he attempted to smile.

It was the first time Adelaide had seen his expression soften.

Then he noticed the jars on the table.

“What’s all that?”

“My medicine.”

“You’re a doctor?”

“No. My father was an apothecary. I learned from him.”

Gidrick looked at the bottles with renewed interest.

“You never told me.”

“You never asked.”

Silence filled the cabin.

He looked down at his hands.

“How long have you been taking care of me?”

“Three days.”

His eyes widened.

“Three?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve been doing everything alone?”

Adelaide nodded.

Gidrick tried to speak, but another coughing spell interrupted him.

She helped him drink some water.

Then he noticed the exhaustion in her face.

“Why didn’t you leave?”

Adelaide looked at him.

“What?”

“You could have gone when I fell. Nobody would have blamed you.”

She slowly placed the cup on the table.

“Do you remember what I told you at the station?”

Gidrick said nothing.

“I asked you to give me the winter. I promised I would leave if I couldn’t manage this mountain.”

She paused.

“But I never promised to abandon a man when he needed help.”

His gaze remained fixed on her.

Something changed in his expression.

Not affection.

Not yet.

Something closer to shame.

That afternoon, the storm briefly weakened.

Adelaide stepped onto the porch to check the snowdrifts. Far below, she could see the faint outline of the trail, but there was no sign of anyone coming.

When she returned, Gidrick was trying to reach the water pitcher.

She hurried toward him.

“You’re supposed to be resting!”

“I can reach my own water.”

“Apparently not.”

He looked irritated, but she noticed that his eyes were no longer as cold as before.

She poured the water.

Then he spoke.

“Adelaide.”

It was the first time he had said her name without sounding annoyed.

“Yes?”

“I owe you an apology.”

She stopped moving.

“For what?”

He looked toward the fireplace.

“For the station. For the things I said. For letting that trapper insult you while I stood there like a coward.”

Adelaide lowered her eyes.

“I heard him.”

“I know.”

“You heard him too.”

Gidrick closed his eyes.

“Yes.”

The silence that followed was longer than either expected.

Finally, he whispered, “I was wrong.”

Adelaide wanted to tell him that those words couldn’t undo a month of humiliation.

Instead, she simply nodded.

“Get some sleep, Mr. Cole.”

But as she turned away, he caught her hand.

“Don’t call me that.”

She looked down.

“What should I call you?”

He swallowed.

“Gidrick.”

For the first time, she smiled.

It was small, tired, and uncertain.

Yet he watched it as though it were something precious.

That evening, Adelaide discovered something troubling.

The food supplies were running dangerously low. The storm had destroyed part of the barn roof, and the remaining firewood was barely enough for several more days.

She opened Gidrick’s old account ledger, hoping to find a list of nearby ranchers who might help.

Instead, she found a letter tucked between two pages.

It was addressed to Gidrick.

The handwriting belonged to the trapper who had insulted her.

Cole,

The offer still stands. I’ll purchase the northern timber rights for twice what you paid. You have until the end of the month.

Beneath it was another sentence, written in Gidrick’s hand.

Refused. I will never sell the land where Abigail is buried.

Adelaide stared at the letter.

Then she noticed a second document.

A map.

Several sections of Gidrick’s property had been marked in red, including the creek that supplied his cabin and livestock with water.

Someone wanted his land.

And judging by the dates on the correspondence, they had been trying to acquire it long before the blizzard.

Suddenly, a noise came from outside.

Three sharp knocks.

Adelaide hurried to the window.

A rider stood beyond the porch, barely visible through the falling snow.

He dismounted and approached the door.

When Adelaide opened it a few inches, the man removed his hat.

“Afternoon, ma’am. I’m looking for Gidrick Cole.”

“He’s ill.”

The stranger glanced past her shoulder.

“Then perhaps you should tell him that the men who tried to buy his property are coming back.”

Adelaide тιԍнтened her grip on the door.

“Who are you?”

The stranger leaned closer.

“My name is Silas Reed. I worked with Abigail Cole before she died.”

Adelaide’s breath caught.

“What do you mean?”

Silas looked directly into her eyes.

“Your husband has been living with a lie for three years.”

And before Adelaide could ask another question, Silas handed her a folded piece of paper.

At the top were four words.

ABIGAIL DID NOT FALL.