Canada, Western -- Fiction; Farm life -- Canada -- Fiction; Married people -- Fiction
He came back transformed--with a battered fur cap hiding most of his
face, in a very big and somewhat tattered fur coat. With a fresh shock
of dismay, she noticed that he now looked very much as the others did.
In another minute he had lifted her into the sleigh and wrapped the big
robes about her. Then he shook the reins and they were whirled away down
the long smear of trail that led straight off to the horizon.
It was beaten hard, the team were fresh and fast, and for a while the
girl felt the exhilaration of the swift rush through nipping air. The
desolate town faded behind her; a grey blur that lifted itself out of
the horizon, and was a big birch bluff, came flitting back to her; there
was deep stillness, only intensified by the screech of runners and the
soft drumming of hoofs. A vast sweep of fleckless azure overhung the
glistening plain below. It was not all white, however, for there were
shades of grey and dusky purple in the hollows, and the trail was a wavy
riband that rose and fell in varying blue. It was beautiful in its own
way, and the stinging air stirred her blood like wine. That was for an
hour or so; but when the sun dipped, a red, copper ball, amidst a frosty
haze, and the blues and greys crept wide across the whiteness of the
plain, the cold laid hold of her. Leland, who had scarcely spoken,
looked down.
"Are you warm?" he said.
The girl was scarcely willing to admit that she was not; but the frost
of the Northwest strikes keen and deep, and, after all, it was his
business to attend to her physical comfort.
"No," she said; "I am very cold."
Leland nodded, though there was light enough to show the curious look in
his eyes. "Well," he said, "that ought to be excuse enough for me, and
it's going to be a good deal colder presently."
He slipped his free arm round her, and drew her to him masterfully. Then
he shook the furs higher about her neck with the hand that held the
reins, and Carrie, who felt that protest would be useless and
undignified, said nothing when she found her shoulder drawn against his
breast, though the old fur coat had a faint but unmistakable odour of
tobacco and the stable about it.
Leland looked down on her with a little laugh. "After all, that is where
you ought to be," he said. "Perhaps, if I am very good to you, you will
come there of your own will, by-and-bye."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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