New Frontier

by Pepper Espinoza

  There was no way he would make it to town on foot before it was completely dark. I could steal her horse, he thought bitterly, since I’m the murdering, robbing bastard. I could kill her then steal her goddamn horse.

  He headed towards the barn, walking with his head down and his shoulders hunched forward, muttering and cursing under his breath. “And then she threatens me? I’ll show her…” The strain of walking into the storm, against the wind, was already slowing him down, and his body began to ache before he even reached the barn.

  Kelly had to use all of his remaining strength to pull the barn door open against the wind, and it immediately slammed shut behind him after he slipped in. He froze, worried that she had heard it. He waited for an eternity for her to come and investigate, but she never did. Flash whinnied at him in greeting, and then went back to contentedly munching on his hay.

  Kelly stepped around the hanging corpse of the deer. It looked grotesque and awful in the dim light, and the smell of the blood made him gag. The barn was fairly warm, and it provided a decent shelter. He staggered over to the haystack and created a small nest to sleep on.

  After he had settled, he realized he wasn’t in a very safe place. It was completely dark in the barn, though, and he didn’t strike a match, for fear that the whole place would go up. Finally, though, he was forced to do something because he was freezing and sleeping too close to the cold ground and the drifting snow.

  There wasn’t a loft in the barn, unfortunately. That would have been ideal. He found the lamp that she kept out there and lit it, keeping the flame turned as low as possible so it wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention. He burrowed a small area from behind the hay, against the wall. It was snug and cozy, and he was able to curl inside of it like a cat. It kept his body heat trapped and provided a bit of extra insulation.

  The hay was sharp and cut into his face and irritated his skin. Small flakes fell down his neck into his shirt, and scratched him mercilessly. He couldn’t find a comfortable position, and every time he moved, a new piece of flesh was exposed to the sharp, cold air. His legs started to fall asleep, and he knew he was lucky to have any shelter at all at this point, so he tried to think of something, anything, else.

  Inevitably, despite his best intentions, his thoughts always returned to Ida. He couldn’t help but picture her snug in her bed, the blanket covering her entire body, except the tip of her head. The fire would be keeping the place warmly lit and cozy, and Ranger would be snoring in the corner. He was jealous. Not because he wanted a nice bed beside a nice fire with the promise of a nice breakfast but because he wanted to be with her.

  He snorted in disgust and shifted slightly. He was turning into a giant sap, and that would probably get him killed, one way or the other. But she was such an alluring combination of strength and frailty; he couldn’t help but be attracted to it.

  See how attracted you are when she finds you and uses that strength to put a hole in your head.

  An unpleasant thought, to be sure. But it did have its merits. He knew he was running a great risk staying in her barn when she had specifically asked him to get far, far away from her. But that risk was part of the attraction. The slight fear churning his gut, the fear he would never admit to out loud, was enough to get his blood pumping to his brain and other parts. The way he held her, felt her hard muscles beneath her deceptively soft skin…

  He would have to think of something, make a new plan. There was no doubt that he would have to sneak away from the barn, but he didn’t know the area well enough to figure out where he could possibly go. They all knew his face in town, thanks to that twice damned wanted poster, and he really didn’t have any intention of stealing her horse.

  If she didn’t come out the next day to finish cutting up the deer, he would take the time to construct a better shelter for himself. This might be his new home for the next several months, and if he wanted to live to see spring, he’d have to be very smart, and very careful.

  Chapter Ten

  Ida couldn’t sleep. All she could do was stare at the thickening haze of white snow that swirled outside of her window. Pieces of white flakes fluttered under the doorway, and into a few of the cracks in the wall. She kept the fire roaring, curled in a large blanket on the rocking chair. She felt chilled to her bones. Her skin was raised in goose bumps, her teeth chattered. It wasn’t really cold next to the fire. Ranger slept on her feet, keeping them toasty, and the skin on her face was dry and hot to the touch. Her eyes were watering—from the fire.

  Eventually she forced herself to look away from the increasingly hectic blizzard. She could only imagine what it was like to be trapped out there—cold, lost, alone. Injured. Possibly bleeding. She shook her head. She didn’t want to think about it. She couldn’t afford to put herself in danger by harboring a fugitive. A murdering, thieving fugitive.

  A murdering, thieving, injured man who needed her help.

  No, he would be fine. He would be smart enough to find shelter.

  Where? A treacherous voice asked. She ignored it, not allowing it to interrupt her train of thought. He would be smart enough to find shelter, and if not then he would…

  Die?

  He wouldn’t die. He would be fine. She shivered and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She didn’t want to keep thinking about it, because if she did, that would just lead to more painful revelations. She didn’t want to be forced to examine her anger, because then she’d have to acknowledge the betrayal. Which would lead to embarrassment over how stupid and trusting she had been.

  Not stupid, lonely.

  Things were about to get much lonelier. Now it was just her and Ranger, and the winter stretched ahead of them like a never-ending plain of despair. She could hear the wind push the snow against the door, piling it high against the window. She would probably be trapped inside for a few days, if it stopped snowing. Much, much longer if it continued at this rate.

  Ida didn’t really know what to expect. She had been told winters could be harsh, but she hadn’t really thought it would start so early. And maybe this was just a freak autumn storm. Maybe the weak sun would return for a few weeks and grant them a small reprieve before things really got horrific.

  It was a small, bitter hope. She didn’t think it would happen that way, though, and for the first time, the enormity of the situation truly struck her. Winter could last as long as six or seven months. She would be alone…

  Despite the fact that she didn’t feel like sleeping, she found herself dozing as her thoughts continued to spin. Her concerns and fears mingled with shadowy dreams, and she envisioned herself lost in the blinding snow, struggling vainly to find her way to shelter, feeling her hands and feet go numb, feeling her muscles cramp under the strain, and her legs give out beneath the added weight of the never-ending snow wearing her down.

  Instead of pulling herself out of sleep, forcing herself to wake up, she sank deeper and deeper into the dreams. She never could pull herself from the darkly seductive nightmares where she had no control, no way to save herself. She never could fight hard enough to escape. Even as she screamed for release, she couldn’t tear herself from the monsters and the demons.

  The raging storm increased in volume, the snow pounding the ground and the trees and the cabin mercilessly. Large, heavy, white flakes that stuck to everything they touched, too heavy to melt away. The sound of it played as the soundtrack to her restless dreams, and the dreary white was a backdrop to the nightmares.

  The ice trapped her, sent her falling to her knees, as though in prayer. She saw herself stand up and fall over and over. She saw the white death cover her, blanket her, force her lower and lower to the ground. Nobody would come out to rescue her. Nobody would be able to find her, and she didn’t have the strength to rescue herself again. Didn’t have the strength or the heat to fight this storm.

  The fire crackled and hissed but it wasn’t enough to catch her from the deepening spiral of darkness and cold. She slept on and on and she shook
and she heard their voices and his voice all begging her for something until she gave everything she had and there was nothing left for herself.

  The snow stopped before the sun came out, and she woke up in time to see a small ray of sunshine. By afternoon, it looked like the reprieve Ida had prayed for had been granted. Even so, she hid in the cabin all morning, slightly afraid of venturing out into the hard, white world. She didn’t recognize it anymore, couldn’t find any familiar landmarks under the snow. The tree limbs ducked low to the ground, heavy with snow, and the road was completely gone.

  She had no idea how deep the snow actually was. She wouldn’t be able to tell unless she went out and measured. Every time she tried to look out over the flat crust for too long, the bright light would pierce her brain and large spots danced in front of her eyes. After lunch, she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. She had to at least go out and feed Flash and make sure he had water, then feed the chickens and gather the eggs. Also, there was the deer to take care of. With grim determination, she pulled her boots on and her coat. She didn’t put on the heavy one because it wasn’t that cold—besides, she’d be back indoors as quickly as possible. She had no intention of lingering outside.

  She squinted her eyes and kept her head down as she made her way slowly through the unmarked snow. Ranger hadn’t bothered to come with her. He took one step onto the icy, wet ground and then stepped right back into the house. The sun was high in the sky, but it was still overcast. It took nearly thirty minutes to create a trail out to the barn. The snow wasn’t very deep, only up to her knees, but it was very wet, and very heavy.

  The storm had covered Kelly’s tracks, and though she looked as much as she could, she couldn’t see any signs of him at all. She had no way of knowing where Kelly had gone to, or how far he had gotten in the storm.

  It took three tries to open the barn door. It was frozen shut, and the snow had drifted high against it. She immediately checked on Flash. Her heart fell when she realized his water was frozen, and she had no idea if she would be able to get him more.

  It was such a little thing. Minuscule, insignificant. Nothing compared to what she had already gone through in her life, and the horrors undoubtedly waiting for her. Any other time, it probably wouldn’t have bothered her. She would have figured out what to do and done it, and then moved on with her chores. It was just so stupid.

  The deer hung behind her, the blood frozen in a puddle beneath it. She touched it and realized it was also frozen through, and would be impossible to cut. She didn’t know how to thaw it. She didn’t know how to do anything. She didn’t know how to survive this, didn’t know anything about living out here by herself. And the entire time she was getting ready, she had only been fooling herself.

  Breathless, she sunk to her knees and stared ahead blankly. She didn’t even register what she was looking at. She didn’t know how to get back to her feet, and if even if she could, she didn’t know where to begin. Ida was simply exhausted. The exhaustion on top of the snow on top of the confusion on top of the stunning blows of losing her first friend in…everything had just been…and her dreams. Her dreams were worse last night. She remembered everything so vividly.

  Ida didn’t know what was worse, though, dreaming about being caught in the snow or dreaming about being caught in the snow and not caring about, even welcoming, imminent death.

  * * * *

  Kelly watched her from his vantage point behind the haystack, not moving and barely breathing. He threw up a quick prayer when he saw that Ranger wasn’t with her. The last thing he needed was for the dog to discover him…again.

  Kelly debated with himself, unsure if he should expose himself by helping her, or just let her do whatever it was that she was doing. She looked like she was crying, but there were no tears and she wasn’t making any sound. Occasionally she would drag in a shaky breath, filling her lungs and holding it for a long time before expelling loudly. But other than that, she was as silent and still as he was.

  Finally, though, just as Kelly was about to stand up, she pulled herself to her feet and wiped her face. She squared her small shoulders and lifted her head. It was as though the weight of her troubles had been lifted from her back. She still looked tired, and the glance she threw at the deer was full of trepidation, but at least she was moving again.

  She found a blunt object and broke up the ice in the trough. Once that small catastrophe was taken care of, she stared at the deer and planned out how she would cut the meat. She was so engrossed with the problem that she didn’t notice the skies darken again, didn’t notice the quickening wind, and it was a good hour before she realized it had started to snow again. Kelly foolishly kept his mouth shut and didn’t move from his hiding place. He thought he should warn her, but he also knew he shouldn’t attract attention to himself.

  The storm had evolved into a blizzard by the time she noticed it, and the sun was completely obscured. Kelly was on edge. It was prematurely dark, darker than it should be this time of day. He watched her stand in the door, staring across the yard. Everything was obscured and hidden. She hesitated for several moments, but finally made a run towards the cabin.

  Kelly thought she would be fine. It was true that she couldn’t see the cabin, but it wasn’t far. All she had to do was walk straight ahead until she hit a wall. It wasn’t terribly complicated, and nothing, no fence or building, stood between her starting point and her destination. It was just a matter of taking the first step into the mouth of the storm and staying on a straight line.

  The second she shut the door, Kelly jumped out of his hiding place. He rushed over and pulled the door open, hoping to at least catch a glance of her, though what he really wanted was to be able to follow her progress. He could barely make out her small, bent form as she walked forward. Then she started to veer. He watched with horror as her steps took her gradually left, and he knew if she kept that up, she would miss the cabin completely.

  Without a second thought, he left the relative safety and comfort of the barn and trudged towards her. She walked slowly, hindered by the blizzard. In fact, it looked like she wasn’t making an effort at all to reach the cabin quickly. His eyes widened when he saw her come to a dead stop. He caught up with her as quickly as he could.

  “Ida!” He shouted. She either didn’t hear him or was pointedly ignoring him. “Ida!” He grabbed her shoulder and tugged her towards him.

  She looked up, and if she was surprised to see him, she hid it well. Without another word he grabbed her arm and dragged her towards the barn—he could still see it through the snow, and he had no idea where the cabin was or how far away. She didn’t struggle against him. He wished she would, so at least he would know that she was fine and healthy and there wasn’t a problem at all.

  He pushed the door open, shoving her inside and slamming the door shut behind him. He leaned over, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

  “You okay, pet?” Ida didn’t answer. He looked up at her and frowned. “Ida? You okay? Are you cold?”

  She blinked, the only sign that she had heard him at all.

  “Ida? Come on. Answer me, okay? I know, I know I shouldn’t be here. But you need to talk to me…”

  “It’s just a dream,” she said, her voice quiet and distracted.

  “What?”

  “This. Just a dream.” And her eyes went blank again, she shut her mouth, and Kelly could practically hear the walls slam up around her, shielding her from everything the world could throw at her.

  Kelly looked around helplessly as the wind picked up. “Well,” he muttered, “we’ve fucking had it now.”

  Flash neighed as if in agreement.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kelly had her sit down against the haystack, and then took inventory of what they had in the barn, other than the horse and the deer. She had a pocketknife and another book of matches. Her coat wasn’t as thick as it should have been, but it was better than the nothing he had. There was an empty stall in t
he back of the barn, and he decided that would be as good place as any to settle for the evening. Ida watched him with blank eyes as he hauled hay into the stall and spread it across the ground to create something resembling a bed. He then shoveled a large pile of dry horse manure into the corner. That mixed with a little hay would keep a fire burning.

  He cleared a small space on the ground, down to the hard packed dirt, and then filled it with the manure and hay. He kindled a small fire, keeping it low to the ground so the whole barn wouldn’t go up in flames. Flash whinnied at the smell of smoke, but quieted down. When Kelly was satisfied that the stall was cozy and the fire wasn’t going to burn out of control, he went back for Ida.

  “Come on, pet.” He pulled her to her feet, and she stood up willingly. “Let’s get those hands warm, yeah?”

  Kelly led her to the fire and pulled her to the hay-covered ground. He settled behind her, pushing his chest against her back, covering her hands with his, and wrapping his arms around her body. The fire was low and was almost ineffective against the sharp wind blowing through the planks and the snow drifting in through the cracks in the walls. He rocked them gently, unconsciously.

  “Ida? Talk to me,” he encouraged gently, fear creeping over his body. He didn’t know what he would do if she had really lost it.

  “It’s never been like this,” she muttered.

  “What?”

  “So…cold.”

  “You’ve been through winters before,” he said, in way of encouragement.

  “Not like this. Not so sudden. Not by myself.”

  “Do you still think you’re dreaming?”

  “No.”

  She didn’t elaborate. Kelly continued to rub her fingers between his, warming them until the feeling came back.

  “We shouldn’t be here,” she said softly.

  “Well, no, it’s not my first choice either, but I can’t even see the cabin from here…”