He hated the cold. It bit at his skin no matter how many layers he wore. It seeped into his bones and settled like rocks at the bottom of a stream. It made the metal of his rifle sting against his chapped hands.

Snow was beginning to settle in drifts along the wide expanse of empty terrain. It would make it more difficult to move quickly and quietly to the shanties just ahead. Smoke billowed up from their chimneys, a sign of warmth and comfort that caused a flash of envy through his blood.

"Scouts just got back," a low voice whispered in his ear, "looks like there's thirteen men. We know for sure that eleven of them are armed, but I would bet on the other two carrying a piece."

"What kind of weapons are we looking at?" Jack began his usual line of questions.

Newly promoted Captain Jack Thornton glanced over to man beside him. Corporal Matthew, "Matty" VanNoppen knelt on the hard, frozen ground beside him. His blonde hair had turned a ruddy brown due to the lack of sunshine that came with the winter months. His chin and cheeks had patches of facial hair that did little to cover his face and protect it from the cold, bone chilling cold, of the wind that whipped around them. Corporal Matthew VanNoppen had been stationed in the Northern Territories for two months compared to Jack's four, nothing more than a Constable. The young man had quickly risen through the ranks and had become the indispensable right hand of Jack's command.

"In the back they've got four men with two Enfield .303s and what look like Martini Henry carbines. But the scouts weren't a hundred percent on that."

Matty paused, unsure of how to continue. Jack tore his gaze away from the shanties back to his corporal, "What about the other nine men?"

Matty glanced down at the ground beneath his elbows, "A group of five men on the left hand side have at least eight 1871' Mauser rifles."

Jack grimaced. The gun was old and impractical in a fire fight to be sure. It was relatively slow to reload and when it was fired, a shower of soot and smoke came back in the face of the shooter. After two three shots were fired from it, the barrel and stock would be too hot to hold, so it would have to be thrown away to cool. What's more, the concussion of it was so severe that it the shooter would often be drive back a few feet.

On the other hand, the heavy lead bullets fired by the Howth did more damage to a body than Jack thought possible from a gun. The bullets would break up on impact, blasting through wood and stone and bone and skin. He'd seen them rip through flesh and leave gaping holes in the chests and stomachs and heads of men. Damn, bad news all around.

"Any dogs," Jack asked through gritted teeth.

"There were but," Matty swallowed in disgust, "looks like they ate them."

Jack shuddered, "Well, we've been following them for two weeks. There hasn't been any game to hunt and all the lakes are frozen over. There probably wasn't anything left to eat."

"Still," Matty countered, "I'd rather die."

They both knew that it was a lie. Just last week they had to start eating a horse that dropped dead on them. But Jack said nothing, refusing to call out the untruth.

The Northern Territories were cruel and unforgiving. The harsh winter did not discriminate between the good and bad. They were all trespassing on land that, while harsh, was still pure and untouched by the ways of man. Not anymore, Jack thought bitterly. Too much blood had been spilt here. Another Eden, however cruel it may be, had been destroyed by man.

"Right," Jack swallowed whatever spit he had left. God, when did he get so dehydrated, "Take Cooper and Ouimet. You'll flank the shandies. I'll take Shelby, Graham and Clarke to pull up on the left. We'll take care of the Howth Mausers."

"Where do you want Fraser's unit?"

"Once we take out the Mausers, have him double back behind us. Make sure they stay on horseback in case anyone tries to make a break for it. Once it's clear, we'll send a messenger back to Fraser to regroup. We'll use the shanties for the night before checking in at Yellowknife."

"Understood, Captain."

"Okay," Jack breathed out as he gripped his rifle, "Let's move out."


The soft breeze carried the unmistakable message that winter had arrived. Snow was beginning to fall to the ground as far as the eye could see. The pond beside the school house had frozen over and she could hear children laughing and skates cutting into the thick ice. But Elizabeth wasn't looking at the pond or the wintery landscape. She was looking at the house, sitting on top of the hill.

"Well, Mrs. Thornton," George Cyrus, the town blacksmith and handy man walked over to where Elizabeth stood, "I say it's perfect timing that we got the windows put in. Mean's the house is sealed up nice and tight for the winter. We'll be able to finish up the inside by the time spring rolls around. Then we'll paint."

Elizabeth smiled softly, "It's beautiful, George. You're all doing such a wonderful job."

George grinned and tipped his hat at the compliment, "Thank you, ma'am. But it's easy to make a pretty house when you've got the right plans. I tell ya, if being a Mountie don't work out for him, Mountie Jack's got a bright future as an architect."

A giggle escaped her lips, "I'll be sure to tell him that in my next letter, George."

"You do that, Mrs. Thornton. You do that."

Elizabeth gave a quick grin as she took in the house once more. Even hundreds of miles away, Jack continued to show Elizabeth just how much he loved her.

The house was something out of her dreams. A long porch wrapped around the first floor of the front of the house with narrow columns holding up the tin roof. Windows filled the front and sides, letting natural light poor into the bright and airy house. Two bright, birch wood doors sat in the center of it all, welcoming anyone to enter.

"Your father wrote that he's coming next month to check on the progress," George continued.

"Yes," Elizabeth replied, amusement in her voice, "He's very excited to see how everything is coming along. He told me he's bringing me something for the inside of the house."

"What do you think it is?"

A hearty laugh escaped her lips, "Lord only know with that man."

"What do you hope he's bringing?" George amended his original questions.

Elizabeth paused, mulling the question over in her mind, "My books," she answered.

"Can't say I'm surprised that you're a book worm, Mrs. Thornton."

She let out another laugh, "When I was growing up, I always had my nose in a book. One day I was 20,000 leagues under the sea, the next week I was at a ball in Netherfield with the Bennet Sisters," Elizabeth allowed herself to be swept up in the memories of her childhood, "They are magical things, books. They can take you anywhere you want to go without leaving your front door."

George smiled knowingly, "Well, here's hoping that he bring you some books."

Elizabeth smiled softly and George and gave him a small nod.

Hammers hitting nails, the scrape of a saw, the shouts of a few men reverberated through the air. She watched them scurry like ants as they began to pack their tools for the snow drift that was settling in.

"Snow's coming in," George remarked, "May I give you a ride back to town?"

Elizabeth smiled again at George's kind offer, "I believe I'll take you up on that George."

Sucking in a deep, calming breath, he chanced a glance at the gray sky. Snow was falling steadily. The flakes were beginning to stick to the brim of his Stetson hat and gather up on his shoulders. The ground began to crunch under his wet leather boots.

Concentrating on each breath, Jack knew that was all he could do. Breathe in. Breathe out. He paid careful attention to the his breath swirling and cool into a visible puff of a cloud in the chilled winter air. Breathe in. Breathe out. The constant patterns of his chest moving, his lungs filling, and his breath escaping steadied him. Just take out the Mausers. Keep as many of the men alive to take back for questioning. Make it past their lines of defense and survive. Mausers. Prisoners. Survive.

Mausers. Prisoners. Survive. The mantra echoed in his head as his breath let out gray puffs of smoke in the cold air.

HIs gaze shifted to the horizon. Elizabeth would be heading over to Abigail's cafe for tea after school. She would help students with homework if they walked into the cafe for a spell. If he was there, she would start making (or attempting to make) dinner for them. He wondered if she was thinking of him. He hoped she was. It would be comforting to think that if just for this moment, he was on her mind while she was on his.

He squezzed the trigger guard of his rifle once more. The metal of his wedding band scraped against the iron underside of the rifle barrel. Jack's feet moved quietly on the ground. They hadn't been spotted yet. Just a few seconds more. That was all they needed to get a good shot. Just a few seconds more.

One of the guards called out. Shouts began to ring out. They had been spotted. The stench of fear and anticipation seemed to cling to the air. Just a few more steps.

Jack felt a bullet graze his ear.


She loved wintertime in Hope Valley. The town square had a lovely dusting of snow atop the roofs of the buildings. The smells of baked goods and cinnamon and hot cocoa flooded her senses. Decorations were already being put up for Christmas, and a large Balsam fir sat in the heart of town as a beacon for the holidays to come.

Elizabeth smiled softly as she caught a glimpse of Julie and Tom just outside Abigail's cafe.

"Well there's my favorite Thatcher sister!" Tom shouted in jest, receiving a mostly playful in the stomach from Julie, "Oww."

Elizabeth couldn't help the chuckle that danced past her lips as Julie rolled her eyes, "Oh please, you baby."

"Two weeks into your engagement and you're already bickering like an old married couple," Elizabeth remarked as she made her way up the steps and onto the porch.

Utter euphoria radiated from Julie at the mention of her and Tom's engagement. Elizabeth watched them turn to one another with love and affection and she couldn't help the bitter hint of envy rise up in her throat. She was happy for them, truly. All Elizabeth had ever wanted for her younger sister was to happy and fulfilled and loved. And anyone with two eyes could see how blissfully happy Julie Thatcher was, especially when a certain railroad foreman named Tom Thornton was on her arm. Elizabeth was truly happy for them….

But her love for her sister did not quell the bitter taste of envy that rose up in her throat. Elizabeth placed a reverent hand on the swell of her stomach, still hidden to the world save for the ones who knew to look for it. Envy and anger and sadness rushed through Elizabeth and before she even knew what was happening, tears were threatening to fall down her cheeks, made rosy from the chilly winter air.

Elizabeth couldn't tamp down the resentment that flooded through her. That Tom and Julie, who had been so selfish and self-centered for so long, were blessed to see each other every day… it tore at Elizabeth's heart. It wasn't fair that Tom and Julie, who had lied and schemed in some way or another, could have dinner together every night and hold hands whenever they wished. It was wrong that Tom and Julie were so blessed when Jack and Elizabeth were so far apart. It was wrong that Elizabeth had spent more time as a married woman without her husband's warm embrace and gentle gaze and biting humor than she had with it. It wasn't right that Elizabeth was four months pregnant and Jack, who's greatest fear was missing his child's life as his father had missed his, was off fighting in some dangerous place for God know how long.

"Are you okay, Beth?" Julie's voice cut through Elizabeth's tumultuous thoughts. Julie's brow furrowed quizzically.

Elizabeth forced a grin as she nodded yes, "Just tired. My students were quite jumpy today."

"I can't say I blame them," Tom said, "What with that beautiful pond to skate on and the entire weekend to do it!"

"Oh what a lovely idea!" Julie shouted, "We should go skating tomorrow."

Tom and Julie continued to talk but Elizabeth listened with quiet disinterest. She moved to open the door to Abigail's Cafe with Tom and Julie right behind her.


Gunshots cracked through the cold, damp air. Smoke billowed around the shanties,. A yell of adrenaline ripped from between Jack's chapped lips. His heart thudded in time with the pounding of his boots as he peered through the smoke from the Mausers at his target and fired another shot. A grim look of satisfaction flitted over his face as one more dropped to the ground.

Everything was chaos, devastation, blood and things he didn't want to think of, all clamoring in some giant mess around him. It was too much to concentrate on and yet that was all he could do, focus, focus on another step, another target, another shot. Jack raised his rifle and squeezed the trigger. CLICK!

Damn it, Jack thought as he threw the empty rifle down and pulled his pistol from its holster.

Blood trickled down the left side of his face as the tip of his ear hung by a sliver of skin. The wind bit against the wound and the pain of it made Jack want to scream.

Blood spattered across his face.

Jack looked over his shoulder to see Clarke fall to the ground with a sickening crack, less than two feet from Jack's muddy, snow covered boots. Blood leaked from the hole in his back and oozed into a crimson pool on the pearly white snow beneath his lifeless body. Bile collected in his throat. Anger welled up in his veins. Jack turned back to his target, a man with a scraggly beard and no front teeth.

The man had used his shot on Clarke…. and he didn't have enough time to reload his weapon.

Slowly, Jack raised his pistol and aimed the muzzle to the man's chest, "Drop the gun," Jack bellowed.

The man's neck muscles twitched in indecision.

"I will not ask you again," Jack spoke slowly, "Put down your gun or I will shoot."

Jack's eyes flashed to movement behind the gunman. Matty's familiar face popped up from behind one of the shanties. Ouimet walked behind him with two men bound at the wrists and shoulders. The gunman dropped his rifle.

Jack lowered his pistol slightly and began to walk toward the disarmed gunman.

"Go to hell!" The gunman shouted… pulling out a pistol from his coat.

Jack raised his pistol and both men shot….