She called over her shoulder, “What’s wrong with him?” “Could be the flux.” Madge came out of the pantry with her hands full, a sack wedged in an armpit. “How long he been down?” “Near about three days.” Madge wrapped her cape around her and pulled a hat over her ears. She followed him outside. He opened the door to the carriage. Shards of snow whipped her face as she climbed inside. Richard turned the horses and they headed south. The carriage tilted, and Madge thought they might slip off the icy road. Two horses pulling a sleigh slid by them, the people bundled in dark coats like lumps of coal. The trip was taking twice as long as it usually did. Madge pulled the beaver skin over her legs. Whenever her mind began to envision the worst, she reeled the thoughts back in. They had just crossed the bridge when the carriage stopped. Richard climbed out of his seat, walked around to the side of the carriage, and disappeared out of sight. Madge tapped on the glass. “It’s stuck!”
