Page 87 of A Forgotten Heart
He reined Surrey in a wide circle around the debris to continue toward his cabin.
Earlier that morning, when Nick passed the bunkhouse on his way to town, he’d believed the shambles represented a beacon of hope. A Christmas sign of moving on, past the regrets holding him in place.
Now the heaps of ash looked like another mistake his brothers would have to clean up.
There was no Christmas joy. All that lay ahead for Nick was the isolation of the winter cabin.
The deal was done. He’d filed the paperwork that afternoon. Right after Elsie had shredded his heart.
The deed bulged in his coat pocket. Next to the application he had filled out last night to return to normal school. This morning, he’d thought he’d drop it in the mail. Now he realized the application had been a waste of time.
He was a rancher, pure and simple. One with responsibilities to his family that rolled ahead of him in an endless cycle. Spring and fall. Calving and roundup.
He couldn’t face the idea of finding a wife, like he’d asked Merritt to help him with. The only woman he’d ever loved, the only woman he’d ever wanted, was Elsie.
And she didn’t love him enough to choose him.
The cutting wind numbed away the sickness in his gut as he stabled his horse in his rustic lean-to and trudged to his cabin.
The squeak of the door’s hinges echoed against the cabin’s empty walls. It seemed so hollow compared to Drew’s home. Only a bed and simple dresser and table. No family. No laughter. No Christmas decorations.
Memories of decorating the big house with Elsie assaulted his brain. The way she’d shown Tillie how to make cornhusk angels and helped Jo with the bows. Sung. Laughed.
He pressed his palm to his throbbing forehead.
Forget.
He couldn’t. Not without something to keep him busy. He struck a match, casting a flickering light along the walls.
His gaze snagged on the stores for the winter cabin, stacked against the front wall. Crates of tinned beans, bags of flour, salt, all ready to sustain him until spring.
Someone—Drew?—had pulled the empty wagon outside yesterday.
All that was left for Nick to do was load it up and fulfill what duty required of him.
He hadn’t planned on leaving until after Christmas. But the idea of celebrating tomorrow morning felt suffocating.
The kids would be wild with joy. And he’d think of Elsie. Tillie would ask questions about where Elsie was. His big brothers would hover.
He couldn’t do it.
Why not leave for the cabin tonight? The majority of the supplies were ready. If he needed more supplies, he could simply snowshoe down from the isolated winter cabin and bring them on a sled.
Before he could change his mind, he went out and hitched Surrey to the wagon.
The sun had almost disappeared below the horizon as Nick carried out the first crate of beans. Patch trailed behind him.
Crate after crate, blood pumping, he carried them out to the wagon, filling the bed.
With only a couple of loads left, he stepped outside, two large bags of flour in his arms.
“What’re you doing?” Isaac asked, startling Nick.
Just behind him, Isaac stood, his horse tethered to a post. Nick hadn’t even heard his brother ride up.
Isaac crossed his arms. “Thought you weren’t heading out until after Christmas.”
Nick ignored him. Or at least tried to, but Isaac blocked his path to the back of the wagon. “We didn’t see you ride through. Everyone’s waiting over at the main house.”
