Chapter 21: Snow

"Duncan," I said. "Wake up."

He was sitting upright before I finished the word.

"It's the pup. It's coming now."

I watched the fear hit him.

It lasted one second, and then he put it somewhere and stood up in the dark with his jeans in his hand.

"How far apart?"

"Six minutes. Five, maybe."

"Is it too early?"

"Yes."

"Then we go." He was already pulling on his boots. "Tell me what you need, and I'll do it."

"Call Orson. Call Clint."

"Done."

He called with one hand and held my shoulder with the other, and I heard him say "Hazel's in labor" in a voice that did not shake.

By the time I had my coat on, the snow lay four inches on the porch rail.

The wind took the screen door out of my hand.

"Truck," I said.

We got halfway down the track.

A pine the width of a barrel had come down across it, with the white weight of the storm still on its branches.

Duncan stopped the truck and put his forehead on the wheel.

The next contraction took my breath out of me and left a white bright hum in my head.

I rode it with my hands on the dash.

"Hazel."

"I know."

"Two miles to the bridge." His voice was careful and very quiet. "Orson's truck is on the other side, with chains. I can carry you."

"It's two miles of snow."

"I've carried more in worse."

"You're still half starved."

"Hazel."

I looked at him in the dome light.

His face was gray, and it was calm, and he had stopped waiting to be told.

"May I carry you?" he said.

He had asked me every day for months.

It had never mattered more.

"Yes," I said.

He got me out of the cab and into his arms.

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