It was deep twilight when Elizabeth and Carson reached the path to the cabin. Elizabeth turned Sergeant and again he balked. She tried again and he still wouldn't go into the trees.

"Carson," she said, "You remember where the cabin is, don't you?"

"Yes, I do."

"Can you go there and look inside and if he's not there, keep coming toward Benson Hills?"

"I'm not sure we should split up, Elizabeth," Carson said.

"It's getting dark and we're running out of time. We'll have to go slower when it gets dark. Please, Carson. I'll be fine."

He nodded. "Okay, but stay on the road. I have a pistol in my saddlebag. If I find him, I'll fire off one shot, otherwise I'll meet you further up."

Elizabeth had already turned and was on her way, scanning both sides of the road, looking for something, anything.

She began calling out his name again, as they had been doing ever since they'd started out. Her throat was raw.

Don't let me lose my voice. Oh, God, don't let me lose him.

"Nathan!" she called out, over and over. "Nathan!"

Sergeant was slowing, down to a quick trot now. Then to a walk.

Elizabeth leaned down and stroked his neck. It was wet from running so far and so long, but he'd never let up, and Elizabeth hadn't pushed him even once.

"Are you tired? Good boy," she said, feeling the desperation and tears coming. She was tired, but she knew she wouldn't stop looking no matter how tired she was.

Elizabeth raised her chin. She thought she might smell just a wisp of smoke. She sat up in the saddle and stretched her neck until it hurt, her eyes wide to take in whatever bit of light was left.

She thought she might be imagining things, but it looked like... a hat. Raised just above the top of the berm at the side of the road, as if it were floating there.

Elizabeth gasped. This was the field where she had challenged Nathan to a race. Sergeant remembered, and he climbed easily up from the side of the road. And now she knew she smelled smoke, just the last dying embers of a fire.

"Nathan!" she called out, and the hat was becoming clearer, misshapen, broken, sitting comically on top of a stick. And there, on the ground...

"NATHAN!" Elizabeth screamed at the top of her lungs, jumping down off of Sergeant and running, her hair and skirts flying behind her.

He was on the ground covered in blankets and though her first instinct was to go to him and hold him, to feel him real and tangible in her arms, she stopped short. Even in the half-light she could see he was so pale, not moving, his eyes closed.

Is he breathing? If he's not, this is the last moment I get to have peace, Elizabeth thought. She was almost paralyzed, caught between going to him and not wanting to know the thing she was most afraid of.

Bear stood a short distance away and he stepped nearer. She thought Bear was coming to her, but instead he bent his neck down and nuzzled Nathan's face before she even had the courage to move.

Nathan's eyes stayed closed, but he mumbled something to Bear and his arm came up flailing feebly to push him away.

He's alive. Thank you, God. He's still alive.

Now she couldn't hold back. She was on her knees next to him, saying his name, her hands on his cheeks, so cold. So cold. She kissed him gently on the lips, not warm the way they usually were, but cold, saying his name again and again.

"Elizabeth?" he said in a whisper. "I must be dead." He opened his eyes and looked at her. She put her face next to his and he reached his hand up to touch her.

"You're not dead, Nathan. I'm here."

"You found me," he said hoarsely. "How did you find me?"

"I'll always find you," she said, finally letting the tears fall. "Always."

Carson knew where they were because Sergeant waited in the middle of the road for him to ride up, and then climbed the short distance up to the field. By then, Carson could see them.

Elizabeth had just revived the fire, finding wood all around, and it was blazing now.

Nathan's voice was low and faint, but he managed to tell Carson about his leg. "Open fracture," Nathan said softly, "I couldn't set it. Afraid I'd pass out again. It's a mess."

Carson examined what he could and said, "This is a clean wound, Nathan. You did an incredible job with this all on your own. You probably saved your own life."

Carson said, "What's your pain level?"

Nathan smiled weakly. Pain levels again.

"Eleven out of ten," he said.

Carson raised his eyebrows. "Morphine or whiskey?" he asked. He liked to have both on hand and gave his patients the choice.

"Both?" Nathan said.

Smiling, Carson said, "Nope, choose one."

"Morphine. But Elizabeth can't listen to anything I say after you give it to me. I'll embarrass myself."

Elizabeth smiled for the first time in far too many hours. "I'll write down what you say so I can read it back to you later," she said.

"Always the writer," Nathan mumbled.

After giving Nathan a more thorough examination and administering the morphine, Carson said, "We need to transport you back to the Infirmary and I'll re-set the bone in your leg, suture up the wound and then put on a cast. But we can't get you there by horse. I'm going to ride back and get the wagon."

"I'm staying here," Elizabeth said, as if there was any question.

"Yes, you are, because there's something you need to do." Carson said, softly, "He's moderately hypothermic, Elizabeth. He needs to warm up and the blankets and fire won't do enough. He needs body heat."

Elizabeth's eyebrows shot up. "Carson..."

"I know it's not proper, or whatever Florence Blakeley might say, but it's medically necessary. I just need you to get under the blanket, fully clothed, and lend him your body heat. You don't even have to touch him, Elizabeth." To her speechless look, Carson said, "Think of yourself as a nurse. This is what a nurse would do. If his body is fighting to keep itself warm, it can't use that energy to fight off infection or fever."

"Now I know I'm dead," Nathan said, smiling as the morphine started to take effect.

Elizabeth turned around and said, "Wipe that smile off your face, Constable Grant."

He opened one eye, "You heard the doctor, it's medically nethessary," Nathan said, having a little trouble with his words.

Elizabeth turned to Carson. "Alright. But neither of you can tell anyone about this. Margaret Cooper will have my teaching certificate if word of this gets around."

"Absolutely," Carson said. "Doctor-patient confidentiality."

From behind her, Nathan said, slurring, "My lips are sealed..."

"Carson. Hurry back," Elizabeth said, her eyes narrowed.

He nodded. "I will, Elizabeth. But listen for the wagon. I'll need to bring help to get him out to the road. Probably Jesse and Hickam, whoever is available. Maybe Bill and Lee will be back by then. When you hear the wagon, you'll have time to get... properly situated."

As Carson rode away, Elizabeth took a deep breath and lifted the edge of the blanket. She knelt down and Nathan said, "Wait, can you get something out of my saddlebag first?" His speech was slow and lazy, and she could tell the pain had subsided.

"What do you need?" she asked softly.

"It's wrapped in brown paper, about yea big," he said, holding his fingers apart.

Elizabeth found it right away, tucked in a corner. She brought it to him.

"Okay, climb in, warm frontier woman. I promise to be a perfect gentleman."

She moved slowly, not wanting to hurt him. He had been complaining of soreness all over to Carson now that some time had elapsed since his hard fall from Bear.

He moved part of the blanket over as a pillow for her, and she stretched out next to him, not touching.

Nathan smiled and said, "Open it."

Elizabeth turned over on her back and opened the brown paper. Inside was a perfect wooden replica of a Mountie, complete with red serge tunic, striped jodhpurs, tall leather boots, and campaign hat. He was saluting smartly.

"It's for Jack," Nathan said softly. "A man and his wife in Murrayville make them, and I thought Jack would like it."

Elizabeth turned the little figure over and over, looking closely at the exquisite detail in the uniform.

"Oh, Nathan. It's so wonderful."

"I thought..." Nathan paused. "I thought it could be his father, or me. Or both of us."

The day finally overcame Elizabeth and large tears fell from the corners of her eyes and into her hair at her temples. Nathan reached up and wiped one away with his thumb. She turned and buried her face in his shoulder and he just let her cry, holding her gently.

They stayed like that, warm together, until much later when the wagon rattled out on the road.

Nathan was true to his word and was a perfect gentleman. When Carson, Lee, Bill and Jesse arrived to carry Nathan out to the wagon, Elizabeth was standing, tending the fire.