A Widow With Triplets, Left To Die In The Blizzard, Until a Cowboy Made Her His Wife

Chapter 6

Morning arrived with brilliant sunlight streaming through frost-covered windows, the storm having spent its fury during the night.

Elena woke to find Mrs. Whitmore already tending to Benjamin, who was fussing softly in the cradle. The housekeeper had been up before dawn, and the room was warm, a fresh fire crackling in the hearth.

“Good morning, Mrs. Reed,” the housekeeper said with a warm smile. “The little gentleman here was just letting me know he’s ready for breakfast.”

Elena sat up, momentarily disoriented before the events of the previous day rushed back. “Have they been awake long?”

“Just this one. The girls seemed content to sleep a bit longer.”

Elena nodded, grateful that her babies appeared to have suffered no ill effects from their dangerous exposure. “Mr. Collins — how is he this morning?”

Mrs. Whitmore’s expression sobered. “Doc Tucker’s still with him. The frostbite is bad, especially on his hands and feet. But he’s young and strong. There’s hope.”

The news brought a fresh wave of guilt. If not for Elena’s decision to press on despite the threatening weather, the driver wouldn’t be fighting for his life.

“That storm came on faster than anyone expected,” Mrs. Whitmore added firmly, as if sensing her thoughts. “The best weather prophets in the territory were caught off guard by it.”

A knock at the door interrupted them. Mason entered, carrying a tray laden with breakfast and a small pitcher of what Elena assumed was more goat’s milk for the triplets.

“Morning,” he said, his deep voice softening as he noticed the sleeping infants. He set the tray on the table by the window. “Thought you might be hungry.”

“Thank you,” Elena responded, suddenly conscious of her appearance. She’d slept in her clothes, and her long auburn hair had come loose from its pins. She tucked a stray strand behind her ear, feeling strangely self-conscious under Mason’s clear gaze.

“The storm’s passed,” he continued. “Left nearly three feet of snow behind, but the skies are clear. I’ve sent word to Helena about your delay.”

Elena’s eyes widened. “Already? But how?”

“Jimmy rode out at first light. Best rider I have. If anyone can get through these conditions, it’s him. Your cousin should know by nightfall that you’re safe.”

The thoughtfulness of the gesture touched Elena deeply. “You’ve been so kind, Mr. Blackwell. I don’t know how we can ever repay you.”

Mason’s expression remained impassive, but his eyes softened. “No repayment necessary, Mrs. Reed. Your little ones are looking stronger this morning.”

“Thanks to you and Mrs. Whitmore.”

In the clear morning light, Elena could see Mason better than she had during the chaos of their rescue. He was younger than she’d first thought — perhaps thirty-five — with striking blue eyes set in a face weathered by sun and wind. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, curling slightly where it touched his collar. There was a strength in his features, but also a sadness that she recognized all too well.

“Your belongings should arrive from the wagon by midday,” Mason continued, breaking the momentary silence. “My men left at dawn to salvage what they could.”

“That’s more than I could have hoped for. I feared everything was lost.”

“Weather’s harsh enough out here without losing what little you’ve brought with you.” He hesitated, then added, “I understand you’re bound for your cousin in Helena.”

Elena nodded, shifting Charlotte to her other arm as the baby began to fuss. “Helen is the only family I have left since Daniel — since my husband passed. She’s offered us a home until I can establish myself.”

“It’s not easy raising children alone. Especially three.”

“No,” Elena admitted softly. “It’s not what I expected. But they’re all I have left of him.”

The simple statement hung in the air between them, an acknowledgment of the grief they both carried.

“Well,” Mason said finally, “you’re welcome to stay until the trails are clear enough for safe travel. Could be a week or more, given the depth of the snow.”

Before Elena could respond, Benjamin let out a lusty cry, clearly tired of waiting for attention. The sound triggered Abigail, who joined the chorus from the cradle.

The corner of Mason’s mouth twitched in what might have been a suppressed smile. “I’ll leave you to tend to your audience, Mrs. Reed. Mrs. Whitmore will see to anything you need.”

With a brief nod, he departed, leaving Elena to the demanding task of feeding and changing three hungry infants.