Blake's Burden by Harold Bindloss

A bitter wind swept the snowy prairie and the cold was Arctic when Clarke, shivering in his furs, came into sight of his homestead as he walked back from Sweetwater. He had gone there for his mail, which included an English newspaper, and had taken supper at the hotel. It was now about two hours after dark, but a full moon hung in the western sky and the cluster of wooden buildings formed a shadowy blur on the glittering plain. There was no fence, not a tree to break the white expanse that ran back to the skyline, and it struck Clarke, who had lately returned from England, that the place looked very dreary.

He walked on with the fine, dry snow the wind whipped up glistening on his furs, and on reaching the homestead went first to the stable. It was built of sod, which was cheaper and warmer than sawn lumber, and, lighting a lantern, he fed his teams. The heavy Clydesdales and lighter driving horses were all valuable, for Clarke was a successful farmer and had found that the purchase of the best animals and implements led to economy, though it was said he seldom paid the full market price for them. He had walked home because it was impossible to keep warm driving, and felt tired and morose. The man had passed his prime and was beginning to find the labour he had never shirked more irksome than it had been, while he dispensed with a hired hand in winter, when there was less to be done. Clarke neglected no opportunity of saving a dollar.