Just waiting.
That alone made him curious.
Most people who found themselves stranded in the mountains showed fear.
This woman showed determination.
Snow covered her dark wool coat.
Her boots were soaked.
A few loose strands of brown hair had escaped from beneath her hat.
She looked tired.
But not defeated.
Elias dismounted slowly.
The horse breathed clouds into the cold air as he approached.
The woman watched him come closer.
"Mr. Whittaker?"
Her voice surprised him.
Calm.
Steady.
"Yes."
She took a small breath.
"My name is Anna Carter."
Elias stopped a few feet away.
He waited.
She seemed to be gathering courage.
Finally, she said:
"I've come to ask you for a chance."
Elias narrowed his eyes slightly.
"A chance for what?"
Anna glanced toward the cabin.
Then back at him.
"For my home."
The answer confused him.
Not because it was unclear.
Because it sounded impossible.
Elias looked past her toward the endless snow-covered land.
"You traveled through this weather to ask me about a house?"
"Not a house."
She swallowed.
"My farm."
The word carried something.
Desperation.
Pride.
Fear.
All at once.
Elias studied her face.
She was younger than he expected.
Maybe thirty-three.
Too young to look as exhausted as she did.
"Come inside before you freeze," he finally said.
Anna hesitated.
Only for a second.
Then she followed him into the cabin.
The cabin was simple.
A large stone fireplace.
A wooden table.
Two chairs.
A bed against the wall.
Shelves filled with supplies and tools.
There were no decorations except a small framed picture above the fireplace.
Anna noticed it immediately.
"Your wife?"
Elias looked toward the picture.
For a moment, something changed in his expression.
Then it disappeared.
"Yes."
Anna lowered her eyes.
"I'm sorry."
Elias nodded once.
Most people apologized when they saw the picture.
Most people asked questions.
Anna did not.
He noticed that.
She accepted the silence.
And somehow that made him more comfortable.
He placed a kettle over the stove.
"You said you have a farm."
Anna removed her gloves.
Her fingers were red from the cold.
"My father owned land east of Silver Creek."
"Owned?"
She looked down.
"He passed away six months ago."
Elias said nothing.
"The farm was already struggling before he died. Bad harvest. Old equipment. Debt."
She looked toward the fire.
"I tried to keep it going."
"You?"
"Yes."
There was no embarrassment in her voice.
Only determination.
"The bank is taking it."
"When?"
Anna stared at the flames.
"Nine days."
Elias frowned.
"That soon?"
She nodded.
"They moved faster than they were supposed to."
"Why?"
"I don't know."