Elena scrambled forward, clearing the mucus from the calf's nose and mouth with her bare fingers. She rubbed its ribcage violently with a handful of dry straw, ignoring the biting cold. "Breathe!" she commanded, her voice cracking. "Breathe!"
The calf gave a sudden, ragged gasp, shaking its head.
Cole grabbed the newborn, hauling it over his shoulders, and helped Elena to her feet. They practically dragged the exhausted mother back to the barn. Once inside, the heavy wooden doors shut out the screaming wind. The barn was warm, smelling of hay and animal heat.
Cole dropped the calf in a clean stall, collapsing against the wooden slats, his chest heaving. He looked over at Elena. She was leaning against a support beam, breathing hard, her hands covered in blood, her hair plastered to her face with snow and sweat.
He crawled over to her, pulling off his gloves, and took her freezing, blood-stained hands in his. He rubbed them vigorously to get the circulation going.
"You're crazy," he breathed, staring at her wide, dark eyes. "You could have gotten frostbite."
"We saved them," she whispered, a fierce, triumphant smile breaking across her face.
Cole stopped rubbing her hands. He looked at her, realizing how entirely and utterly she had woven herself into the fabric of this place, and into him. The walls he had built around himself, the lonely armor of the solitary rancher, had completely shattered. He leaned in and kissed her. It wasn't a tentative, questioning kiss; it was desperate, tasting of salt and adrenaline, an acknowledgment of the raw survival they had just shared.
Elena froze for a fraction of a second, and then she kissed him back, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him close in the dim, golden light of the barn.
Two weeks later, the snow had melted, leaving the pastures a brilliant, shocking green.
Mr. Sterling’s black sedan rolled up the driveway again. This time, he wasn't alone. He brought a state assessor to officially verify the Homestead exemption. They expected to find a sham marriage—a bachelor living alone and a paper wife nowhere to be seen.
Instead, they found Cole and Elena in the corral, branding the new calves.
Elena walked up to the fence, wiping sweat from her forehead, wearing faded jeans, a dusty work shirt, and her silver wedding band glinting in the sun. She greeted Sterling and the assessor with a firm handshake, flawlessly answered every question about the herd's numbers, the acreage, and the yield projections, and offered them coffee that she had brewed that morning.
The assessor looked at Sterling, shrugged, and signed the final approval form right there on the hood of the sedan.
"Everything is in order," the assessor said. "You're cleared for the three-year tax deferment. Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Vance. You have a beautiful operation here."
Sterling looked thoroughly defeated, but managed a curt nod before getting back into his car.