It was a storm that blew out of the gates of hell, spawned by the devil himself. No one could remember a worse blizzard. It had started out innocently enough as gentle rain falling straight down; but in only hours it had turned ugly and fierce with driving winds and snow, making visibility almost non-existent. It would continue for over thirty-six hours, with only small change in ferocity.

She had paused to rest briefly, it couldn’t be far from home. Just a little farther; but it was so bitterly cold. She looked up and saw the thin cowboy directly in front of her on a tall caramel-colored horse.

"Pretty lady what are you doing out here in the snow?" the cowboy said.

She recognized him as her husband, passed away some year and seven months previous. "But you’re dead," she said.

"Apparently not," he succinctly replied.

"I’m trying to make it home," she said, "I’ve got to be there for the boys!"

"Get up behind me," the cowboy said, offering her his hand.

"No I don’t want to go, there’s still work to do," she had been a city girl and had never completely got over her fear of horses.

"We’ve done all we can for the boys," the cowboy said, "You’ll be safe, come on, it’s time to go home."