A Lantern in the Window by Bobby Hutchinson

a hazardous
thing, and if he’d had his wits about him, he would never have left
the ranch.
    At last he came upon the huddled
shapes of the cattle. Using the pitchfork he’d brought along, Noah
unloaded the hay as fast as he could. Driving pellets of snow and
the howling wind snatched his breath away, blinding him and making
his face and hands numb with cold. The cattle grouped themselves
around the feed, backs to the wind.
    He should stay here, he knew, waiting
out the storm in the dubious protection of the cattle’s warm
bodies. It was the sensible thing to do, because the trip back
would be treacherous.
    But who knew how long the blizzard
would last? Annie would be terrified at his absence, and she was
close to her birthing time.
    He needed to tell her how much he
wanted their baby. .. .
    He had to get home, even though by now
he couldn’t see a single foot in front of him, and all his usual
good sense of direction was gone.
    Buck would know where the ranch was.
Animals were uncanny in that regard.
    Swiftly undoing the harness, Noah
abandoned the sleigh.
    "Let’s go home, old man.” Rifle on his
shoulder, Noah leaped up to the horse’s broad back, noting that
already there was no sign of the tracks they’d made; the blowing
snow had obliterated everything.
    The horse stood for a moment, getting
his bearings, then began to move steadily ahead into what seemed a
holocaust.
    Time disappeared in the unholy force
of the storm. Noah, lying almost flat along Buck’s broad back, had
no idea how long they'd been blundering through the knee-deep
drifts when suddenly the big horse stumbled and Noah heard the
horrifying crack of breaking bone and, in the next instant, his
horse’s awful scream of agony as Buck’s broken foreleg crumpled
beneath him.
    Knowing he was in danger of being
pinned beneath the huge animal’s body, Noah tried to throw himself
free.
    He landed on a patch of frozen ground
blown free of snow, and the impact stunned him, but he could hear
Buck’s unendurable screaming even over the roaring of the wind. It
sickened him.
    He knew what he had to do as he
scrambled to his feet and searched frantically for his rifle.
Finding it, he struggled against the might of the storm to reach
Buck, nausea choking him.
    “ Easy, old friend, my poor
old friend.”
    He cursed in a long, helpless stream.
Then he tugged off his mittens, raised the rifle, laid it against
Buck’s head, and pulled the trigger.
    The screaming stopped, and Noah
retched into the snow. It was only when the sickness passed and
reason returned that he was able to acknowledge that the animal’s
death almost certainly meant his own.
    Already, his fingers were numb, his
toes aching with the cold. He crouched beside the still-warm
carcass, his mind as chaotic as the storm that raged around him,
and what he thought of first was Annie.
    If he died here, he’d never have
the chance to tell her that he loved her. He’d never see the
baby they’d made together. He wouldn’t be around to make sure that
the young men who came courting pretty Bets in a year or two were
suitable.
    Damnation, if he died, there'd soon be
suitors lining up and fighting over Annie.
    She was full of life, passionate,
funny, endearing. In fact, Noah admitted, Annie was everything any
man could ever want in a wife. And confound it, she was
his.
    The thought of those faceless men
daring to come courting his wife sent a rush of jealousy and
primitive anger through Noah, and with the anger came
determination.
    He wasn’t going to die out here, damn
it. There’d been enough tragedy in the Ferguson family. He refused
to add to it.
    He needed the chance to set things
right, to tell Annie he loved her, to welcome his new son or
daughter, to live out the rest of the years of his life unafraid of
what fate might bring. He’d been a total fool this past year, but
he was going to make up for it.
    Like a light going on in the depths of
his soul, Noah knew he was going to survive. He just