TWO

ooooooooooooooooo

Caroline Ingalls paced in front of the window looking out onto their yard. Every other minute she pulled the curtain back and looked outside. The snow was falling, heavier than before. Where it lay on the ground the setting sun painted it the colors of the fire – a pale pink-orange, a middling lavender, and the rich deep blue of midnight. She loved the sunrise and sunset. They put her in mind of God and His majesty. Made her feel humble. Reminded her to be thankful. Any other day she would have been moved by its beauty – remarked on it, in fact.

Tonight, it made her afraid.

Charles and Laura were nearly four hours overdue. Her husband had promised he would be back in time to run her pies to town in the wagon though, in truth, she doubted he could have made it tonight. The snow would be half-way up the wheels and the going would be rough and dangerous. Even if the horses could plow through, there was no way to know what lay beneath. No, he would have had to wait until morning and she kept telling herself that that was what had happened to him and Laura. They had been caught out in the storm and taken shelter – probably in a cave – and wouldn't be home until morning.

She didn't know how she would make it through the night.

Turning away from the window, Caroline looked toward the loft and listened. Mary had taken Carrie up to bed with her. Their youngest had wanted her pa and to distract her, her older sister had offered to read her a book. Mary had all but carried the poor little thing up the ladder. Carrie was still recovering from the fever she'd taken about a week before. She was well on the mend, but her strength still hadn't returned and she was more clingy than usual. With all she had to do for the holiday, both at home and for church, it was about all she could do to keep up with her little girl's needs. Mary had stepped up in a very grown-up way to relieve as much of the burden as she could.

She didn't know what she would do without her.

As she stood there, with her face turned into the room, Mary's head peeked out from the loft.

"Ma? "

"Yes, darling?" she answered, stepping closer.

"Carrie is asking for Pa again. Is he home yet?"

Caroline glanced at the window and the silent fall of snow. "No. He's not."

Mary was frowning. "Didn't he say they'd be back for supper?"

She'd answered that question already, but she understood why Mary was asking. She needed reassurance that everything was all right.

The blonde woman let out a sigh. She needed that reassurance too.

"Yes, he did, dear, but you know how it is. It probably took longer than he thought."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Knowing Laura, she probably took them to the South Dakota border looking for the 'perfect' tree."

"Now, Mary, your sister just wants to find a tree we all will enjoy."

As her eldest pulled back out of sight, she heard her sigh. "She could have found that in the side yard."

Mary was right, of course, but she knew how it was. When you were Laura's age, there was nothing more magical than going out on a cold wintry day to select the largest, fattest, loveliest tree to grace your home. Turning back into the room, Caroline walked over to the table that held the large box Charles had brought out of storage the night before – the one that held all of the Christmas ornaments the girls had made over the years. There was nothing more precious than the small stars, pinecone chimney sweeps, cloth angels, and other treasures it contained. Once Charles and Laura returned home, they would have a grand time of it singing and laughing and dancing and decorating the tree in preparation for the holiday. Doing so had been one of her favorite childhood past-times and it was one of her dearest memories.

She wanted her children to have those memories too.

As she fingered a little ornament covered in glittering false snow, Caroline's eyes returned to the window and the wild wintry world beyond. The snow was feathery and consisted of giant flakes, and that made it grow deep very quickly. Charles had taken the sled along packed with everything he might need in an emergency, including blankets and flint and steel to start a fire in case his matches became soaked. Her husband was a good woodsman. A slight smile curled the blonde woman's lips as she remembered him walking out the door. She had tied his hat on his head and he had given her a smile – and then followed it with a kiss full of longing that held the promise of night of passion. It had been quite a while, what with Carrie sick. She missed him – missed that smile and those kisses and the touch of his hands.

Dropping the ornament back into the box, Caroline crossed the room. She glanced at the window and then opened the door and stepped outside. It was fairly late – near ten o'clock. She had expected silence.

Instead she heard the steady rumble of a wagon's wheels.

Who on Earth would be out in this weather?

As she stood there, waiting, she sensed a presence at her side. Looking back, she saw Mary stepping out of the house.

"Carrie cried herself to sleep," her child said in explanation, and then added, "I saw the wagon coming out the window. Who do you think it is?"

"I have no idea!" Caroline pulled her shawl close about her thin frame. "Whoever it is, their cause must be desperate."

Mary moved in front of her just as the wagon appeared out of the snowfall like a wraith.

"It's Doc Baker!," she exclaimed. "And someone's with him. I think it's Mister Edwards."

Caroline gripped the doorjamb to steady herself. Her heart had plunged to her toes at the mention of Walnut Grove's doctor. "Mary, go put a pot of coffee on," she said. "Those men are going to need it."

Mary's look suggested her daughter thought she had ulterior motives – like getting her out of the way in case the news was bad.

Which, of course, was exactly what she was doing.

"Mary, please. Do as I say."

"Yes, Ma'am," her eldest mumbled, and then disappeared inside.

As the wagon rolled up in front of the house, the driver – who was bundled up like an Arctic explorer – waved a woolen hand. "Howdy, Caroline, and how'd you do?" said Isaiah Edwards cheerfully.

Caroline let out the breath she'd drawn. If Charles or Laura – or both – were in the back of that wagon, there would have been no such joy.

Forcing a smile, she replied, "Whatever are you two doing out in this weather? You'll catch your death."

The big mountain man landed on the ground with a thud. He glanced at Doc Baker, who was climbing out, and then turned back to her. "All I can say is, I guess I got the best companion in case somethin' comes callin'," he laughed. "Actually, I was in town and the Doc here needed to get out to the Smiths' lickety-split. That there baby of Emily's didn't pay no nevermind to the weather."

This time the smile was genuine. Emily had lost a baby the year before. "Mother and baby are both all right?" she asked.

"Right as rain and pretty as a picture hangin' in a baw..." Isaiah caught himself. "In a museum."

"And I suppose you have been in a lot of museums," she said, her lips twisted wryly.

"Sure enough have." Isaiah pulled himself up to his full height and adopted a high-brow accent. "How do you think I got to be this cultured?"

"Caroline," Doctor Baker said, rubbing his hands together as he came to her side. "While my companion finds this weather invigorating, I for one would prefer a nice warm summer's day."

"Well, I don't have that," she said, "but I do have a warm fire and Mary just put on a pot of coffee."

"That Charles, he's a lucky man, having a pretty lady like you to look out for him," Isaiah said. "Nothin' a man likes more when he comes in from doin' chores than a fresh pot of coffee!"

Her smile turned to frown. "It's not for Charles. He's...he's not home."

"Not home?" Hiram asked. "I know that fall from the tree scrambled his marbles a little bit," he said with a wink, "but I'd think he'd be wise enough to know to come in out of the snow."

The blonde woman reached up to brush a large snowflake from her eyelashes. "Why don't we go inside where it's warm. I can tell you about it then."

"Hi, Mister Edwards," Mary greeted as they entered. "Hello, Doctor Baker. "

"Well, hello, Mary," Hiram replied. "Your mother says you have a nice pot of steaming hot coffee for us."

"Sure do," she beamed. "It'll be ready in just a minute. I'll get the cups."

"Thank you, Mary." The doctor took a seat at the table and gingerly pulled his gloves from his fingers. He inspected then and then said, almost to himself. "No frost nip."

"It's colder than a well digger's toes out there!" Isaiah proclaimed as he stepped over to the fire. A moment later he winced. "Sorry, I hope I didn't wake no one. Are Laura and Carrie asleep?"

"Carrie is," she replied. "Laura...is with her father."

Hiram must have sensed something in her voice. "Where are they?"

Caroline drew in a breath and then collapsed in a heap on one of the chairs. "I don't know! Charles and Laura went out to get a Christmas tree around two this afternoon. "

Isaiah had been warming his hands. He turned to look at her. "And they ain't back yet?"

She shook her head. "He said they would be in time for supper ."

The mountain man and the doctor exchanged a glance.

"What? What?" she demanded.

"It's nothing, Caroline," Hiram assured her. "We don't know anything. It's just that it's cold – and getting colder – outside."

"Maybe I ought to go look for them," Isaiah said.

"Oh, no," she protested meekly. "You know Charles. He'll be upset if he thinks you two think he can't look out for himself."

Hiram reached across the table and took her hand. He waited for her to meet his gaze. With a smile, he asked, "Do you think he can take care of himself?"

It was Laura being with him that had her worried – mostly. Charles was perfectly capable of surviving in the wilderness, but if something had happened to Laura or, worse, if something had happened to Charles and he had to think of Laura and not himself...

She struggled for words. The only ones that came out were the ones she'd said before. "I don't know."

Isaiah had come to the table. He looked right at her. "If Charles was thinkin' of bein' home in time for supper – and they had to find and chop down a tree – he can't have gone very far. Maybe a mile or two."

"Isaiah, it's not safe for you – or the doctor either." Again, her gaze went to the window. "It's dark."

The mountain man gave her one of his looks – the kind that made the children giggle. "Now you look here, Missus Ingalls..." He held out his hands and twirled in a circle. "I'm all dressed up with nowhere to go! You're just puttin' a purpose to all these pounds!"

She couldn't help but smile. "Well, I...guess. It shouldn't be too far."

"Does Charles have any special stands of trees that he likes?" Hiram asked. "It's likely he'd head somewhere familiar."

They did have a place where they often went for Christmas trees. It was about a mile down the road.

"By the bend in the river. You know, the place that has the tumble of boulders that look like a rocking horse?"

Isaiah tapped his nose. "I know just the place!"

She knew it as well, but she wasn't sure she could find it in the driving snow. But then again, this was the man who had forded a river in a blizzard – in his Long John's – to bring her little girls Christmas presents when they lived in Kansas.

Tears of gratitude welled in her eyes. "I hate to make you..." Doctor Baker was rising. "Hiram, where are you going?"

"I think I will tag along with Isaiah just in case. Now, Caroline," he said at her look, "you know as well as I do that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure."

"What about your coffee?" Mary asked. She was standing next to the table with the steaming pot and two cups in hand.

The doctor looked at her. "Do you have anything we can use to take it with us? It might do Charles and Laura good if they've been out in this weather for several hours. ...Caroline?"

Her mind had drifted. The year before one of their farm animals had gotten out of its pen and wandered away on a winter's night cold as this one. They had found it frozen when the snow thawed – and not until the snow thawed.

Doctor Baker's hand came down on her shoulder. Hiram's face wore a gentle smile. "Have faith, Caroline. God is not blind in a snowstorm. He is always watching."

Five minutes later, the two men – and the coffee – were out the door. Hiram had taken it along with the bottle of whiskey they kept locked in a cabinet for medicinal purposes, as well as several linen sheets that could be used to make bandages, should the need arise. Both men assured her that the most likely outcome of their search would be that they would find Laura and Charles hunkered down in one of the caves near the rocking horse, telling Christmas stories and drinking melted snow.

She wasn't so sure. Something in her – some inner sense – told her something was wrong. Mary felt it too, for as the two men went out in to the wintry night, her eldest had come to her side and silently slipped her arm around her waist.

"What can we do, Ma?" she'd asked.

And she had answered, the only way she could.

"Pray."