The first thaw came in February, as the days were once again beginning to appear. Although it soon froze again, it was not quite such a deep freeze as before, and the ice on the river was thinner. Robert and Rose, however, were unaware of this, and continued to walk out on the ice to fish.
The hole they had chopped in the ice for fishing had completely frozen over when the cold returned, and they were uncertain of exactly where it had been. Unable to find it, they decided to chop a new hole.
Robert had just finished chopping the new hole in the ice when he stepped back—and found the location of the old hole. With a loud crack, the ice broke under him, and he fell into the bitterly cold water below. He barely had time to shout for help before the icy water closed over his head.
Rose had been bringing the bait bucket over from the house, and she heard Robert’s cry for help. Dropping the bucket, she ran onto the ice, uncaring of her own safety.
Robert managed to get one hand out of the hole in the ice, but the water had already stiffened his limbs, and his heavy, sodden clothing was pulling him down. Rose threw herself stomach down on the ice and reached for his hand. The ice creaked under her and she tried to spread her weight out more evenly on the ice, knowing that there was less of a chance of her falling through that way, and a greater chance of getting out of the water if she did fall through.
Robert’s hand slipped back beneath the surface as she reached the hole in the ice. Yanking off her mittens, she plunged her arms into the hole, gasping in pain at the feel of the water. It was even colder than the water had been the night the Titanic sank.
Splashing desperately in the icy water, Rose found one of Robert’s hands and pulled him towards the surface. His head came out of the water and he coughed and choked, spitting out water. He tried to pull himself from the hole in the ice, to no avail.
With a strength she hadn’t realized she possessed, Rose pulled Robert halfway out of the hole. There was a cracking sound from the ice, and Rose scooted backward, Robert forcing his frozen limbs to move as he followed her. As they moved onto more solid ice, the thin ice gave way, breaking into chunks that floated on the surface of the river.
Helping Robert to his feet, Rose got him back to the house. Once inside, he collapsed on the floor near the door. Rose secured the canvas, ordering Tripper to lie close against Robert. Using the body heat of dogs was a time-honored way of warming a frozen person.
Rose helped Robert up and hustled him nearer to the coals of the fire. "Here, let’s get you out of these clothes before you freeze," she told him.
Clumsily, his hands stiff from the cold, Robert began to remove his soaked clothes. Rose added fuel to fire, building it up, then turned to help him. Pulling the bear skin off their bed, she wrapped it around him and helped him to sit down beside the fire.
Rose took the sodden clothing into another corner of the room to dry it out as much as possible, and then returned to Robert. He was still shivering violently, shaking so hard that he was almost unable to speak.
Tripper lay down at his side, whining. Rose moved to heat up the leftover stew from breakfast and helped him to eat some of the hot food. Then, helping him to their bed, she stripped off her own clothes and lay down beside him, allowing her own body heat to warm him.
*****
Initially, Robert seemed to recover from his bout with hypothermia, but after two days they both realized that things were much more serious than they had originally thought.
They did not go back out on the ice, but they still ranged the countryside around their house, enjoying the gradually lengthening days. Rose felt strongly that Robert should stay inside until he was completely recovered from falling through the ice, but he didn’t listen.
On the afternoon of the second day, they were traveling around the tundra near to their home when Robert began to complain that he had a cold. Shortly thereafter, he began to cough a great deal, and he and Rose quickly returned to the sod hut.
Robert spent a long time sitting in front of the fire, trying to stay warm, but finally retreated to bed. When Rose touched his face, she realized that he was burning with fever.
Nothing seemed to help. Rose gave him medicine prepared from the willow sticks she had harvested the summer before and fed him rich stews made from their stored food supplies. She hardly went out, instead staying beside him, but nothing helped. She even brought in snow from the outside to try to lower the fever, but it only made the cough worse.
Rose knew that things were bad, but she refused to acknowledge just how bad. She had lost so much already. Surely she wouldn’t lose Robert, too.
But at the end of three days, Rose knew that they had lost the battle. Robert’s temperature continued to soar, and his cough grew ever worse. His breathing was so labored that Rose often sat beside him, willing him to keep breathing. Death lodged in that dwelling, waiting.
On the night of the third day, Robert called to Rose. His voice was weak, almost non-existent, but in the close confines of the sod house, a person didn’t need much voice.
"Rose."
Rose was at his side in an instant. "What is it? How do you feel?"
"I’m...still alive."
"Yes, and you’re going to stay that way."
He tried to smile at her, but his eyes were bleak. He was dying, and they both knew it.
"Rose...I love you. I think I’ve...loved you...ever since you walked into the kitchen...at the boarding house. I..."
"Don’t try to talk, Robert. You’ll feel better in the morning."
"No. No...time. You’re...strong, but this land...is stronger. In spring...go back to civilization. Let my cousins know...what happened."
"Robert, you’re going to be all right. You will get better."
"Sorry, Rose. I shouldn’t have...brought you here. We should have stayed...in New Orleans."
"No. There’s nothing to be sorry about. The months we’ve spent here have been some of the happiest of my life. I don’t regret a minute of it." Rose’s eyes overflowed. "I love you, Robert Calvert. I’ve known nothing but happiness since I became your wife. I won’t forget you."
"Good...or I might have to...haunt you...for a while."
Rose tried to laugh, but sobbed instead. "Why did this have to happen?"
"It’s life...I guess."
"It’s so unfair."
"Fair is...where you ride...the Ferris wheel."
Rose lay down beside him, wrapping her arms around him. "I love you," she whispered.
"I know." Robert coughed, trying to draw a breath. Rose pulled him closer into her arms, knowing that there was nothing she could do now but be there for him. The pneumonia had gone too far for there to be any treatment. In a future world, with doctors and hospitals and antibiotics, he might have been cured. But on the desolate, isolated Alaskan tundra in 1915, there were no such ways of treating diseases. A person either recovered on their own, or they died.
Rose lay beside him, cradling him in her arms, as his breathing grew slower and slower, and finally stopped altogether. She didn’t let go until it was over.