Eleven
Henry swore when he stepped out of the relative warmth of the barn into the frigid early-November evening. The brief warm spell that had melted most of the six inches of new snow had vanished, pushed out of the region by a powerful cold front. What was left of the white stuff had frozen into crunchy, ragged patches. He guessed the temperature must be in the mid teens above zero but falling quickly. The forecast called for sub-zero lows tonight. There was a time when he’d bemoaned the bitter cold, but he was still too glad to be home to experience them to complain today… and too busy wishing Lindsay was here with him to enjoy a cozy fire in his wood stove. As summer had faltered and bowed to golden autumn and his job on the ranch had shifted from repairs to helping his brothers, fat
