Chapter 1 - THE WOMAN WHO WOULD NOT DIE IN THE SNOW
Her father shoved her from the wagon while her twins were coming, and Abigail Pierce landed on her hands and knees in the freezing snow.
Before the seventeen-year-old could even stand, the whip cracked and her family began disappearing into the San Juan blizzard.
Then another contraction seized her—
and somewhere beyond the white-covered pines, a man's voice called through the storm.
Only minutes earlier, Abigail had been curled beneath a thin blanket in the back of the wagon, gripping the wooden sideboard while freezing wind snapped the canvas above her.
For months, her dresses had been sewn loose around her growing belly.
Her parents avoided neighbors.
Stopped lingering after church.
Acted as though refusing to speak about the pregnancy could somehow erase it.
But there was no hiding what was happening now.
The twins were coming.
Another contraction tightened through Abigail's body.
She pressed her fist against her mouth.
“Keep your mouth shut,” her mother warned from the front bench. “You've shamed us enough.”
Abigail stared at the woman's rigid back.
Until that moment, some foolish part of her still believed labor might change things.
She imagined her mother hearing the pain in her voice and remembering Abigail was still her daughter.
Instead, her mother only pulled her shawl tighter.
Her younger brother stared straight ahead.
Outside, her father, Samuel Pierce, rode beside the wagon with snow collecting across his coat.
He had not called her Abby in months.
The next contraction came harder.
A cry escaped.
Her mother twisted around.
“She's at it again.”
The wagon slowed.
Boots struck frozen ground.
The rear canvas opened.
Samuel climbed inside carrying a blast of snow.
“Pa,” Abigail whispered. “Please.”
His eyes fell to her belly.
“The babies are coming.”
His face did not soften.
“Ain't no place for your kind of trouble where we're headed.”
For a second, Abigail didn't understand.
Then his hand closed around her arm.
She thought he was pulling her forward.
Making room.
Helping.
Instead, he dragged her toward the tailgate.
“Pa—no.”
Her fingers caught the icy wood.
Samuel pulled.
“Please! I can't—”
He shoved her out.
Abigail struck the road on her hands and knees.
Snow soaked through her stockings immediately.
“Pa!”
Samuel climbed back aboard.
Her mother looked down through swirling white.
Tears shone on her face.
She did not move.
“You made your bed,” she said shakily. “Now answer to God for it.”
The whip cracked.
Horses lunged.
Abigail reached toward the wagon.
Another contraction folded her over.
When she looked up, the lantern had become a trembling yellow dot.
Then nothing.
Her own family had left her to die.
And they had left two unborn children with her.
The next pain nearly flattened her.
When it loosened, Abigail understood she could stay on the road waiting for people who were not coming back—
or move before the cold decided for her.
She wrapped the fallen blanket around her shoulders.
One trembling foot beneath herself.
Then the other.
Fresh snow already erased the wagon tracks.
Pines stood like black walls.
Abigail took one step.
Then another.
A branch cracked.
She froze.
Something moved beyond the trees.
Then a man's voice called:
“Miss? Don't move.”
A broad-shouldered figure appeared through the snow.
Abigail stumbled backward.
“Stay away.”
He immediately stopped.
Raised both empty hands.
“I won't touch you. But you're freezing.”
Another contraction hit.
Abigail doubled over.
The stranger's expression changed.
“You're in labor.”
“Twins.”
He looked behind her.
At fading wagon tracks.
“Where's your family?”
Her throat closed.
“They left me.”
He said nothing for several seconds.
Then removed his coat.
He stepped closer only after Abigail gave the smallest nod.
Wrapped it around her.
Lowered himself so she didn't have to look up at him.
“My name is Daniel Mercer. My cabin is less than half a mile from here. My mother is there. She's helped women through births before.”
Abigail stared.
“Why would you help me?”
Daniel looked toward the road.
“Because somebody should have.”
The answer nearly broke her.
When the next pain began, Daniel still did not grab her.
He waited.
Abigail reached for his arm herself.
Only then did he support her.
They moved through the trees.
A small cabin appeared through snow.
Then Abigail suddenly stopped.
Warmth spread beneath her skirts.
Daniel saw her fear.
“What happened?”
“Something changed.”
He turned toward the cabin.
“Ma!”
The door opened.
An older woman hurried toward them carrying a lantern.
One look at Abigail.
“Get her inside. Now.”
Daniel helped Abigail onto a narrow bed near the fire.
The woman introduced herself as Ruth Mercer.
Then knelt beside Abigail.
“How long have the pains been this close?”
“I don't know.”
Abigail gasped.
“My father—he threw me out—”
Ruth's eyes snapped toward Daniel.
Anger appeared in his face.
But Ruth had no time.
“Daniel, boil water. Every clean cloth we have.”
Abigail gripped Ruth's hand.
“Are they going to live?”
Ruth squeezed back.
Then another contraction struck.
The older woman's entire posture changed.
“Listen to me, child.”
May you like
Her voice was calm.
“The first baby is coming right now.”
