by Em Petrova
She quickened her pace, but what felt like an hour later, she still had no service and felt no lower in elevation. How long was this road? She’d been so wrapped up with Owen while they drove to the cabin, stealing looks at him from beneath her lashes, excitement warm in her belly. Now, the only warmth she possessed resembled a blaze of anger.
The rain lightened, but then the wind picked up to a howling gale, cutting through her wet coat and boots and freezing her exposed face. With a cry, she searched the roadside for a sign of shelter. Another cabin, or hell, at this point, she’d take a house belonging to a troll as long as it was dry and out of this dangerous wind.
When she began shaking from cold, she took that as a good sign. She was still able to generate some body heat, but for how long?
She spotted a fallen pine, the heavy branches bowed under the weight of snow. She’d once read an article about a man who’d built a shelter from pine limbs, and he’d been sheltered enough to make it through a storm. Thank God for her research about Colorado winters before making the move from Tennessee.
Looking from the road to the tree and back again, she weighed her options. Think, Esme. But all she could think about was how cold she was, and her brain didn’t fire like normal.
She could sit under the branches for a little while and attempt to warm herself a bit. That was smartest, right?
Climbing the bank took some effort, but she finally mounted the higher ground. Crouching, she ducked under the branches and scooted her back against the trunk. The sharp tang of pine and cold snow burned her nostrils, and she raised a wet glove to pinch her nose. She could scarcely feel the tip, she was so frozen.
She unzipped the collar of her coat and buried as much of her face inside as she could. Then she stuck her gloved hands under her arms and drew her knees up to her chest to conserve heat.
The wind raged on like a wild animal, and after a while, she felt like howling with it. What good would it do, though, when she needed her energy and the man she wanted to release her tirade on was nowhere around?
What if Owen had gone back to the cabin and found her gone?
Dammit, walking back would take hours, and no way could she climb the mountain in her state of fatigue. She had to stick to her plan. Head down the mountain. Find a spot of cell service and call Natalie from the bank for a ride.
Slightly warmer, her morale began to rise again, when the rain returned. As fresh drops cut through the thick needles of the pine and trickled onto her neck, she felt the first true fear strike her heart.
Maybe she would never get down this mountain.
On the heels of that came a cheery thought. At least Owen will be charged with murder.
* * * * *
“My eyes must be failing. I swear I’m lookin’ at one of the Moon boys over there.”
The feed store owner’s voice reached Zayden all the way down the aisle, and he pivoted to eye the old timer.
“I am a Moon.” He slowly approached the checkout counter.
The owner stared. “Tell me your brothers aren’t with ya.”
“No, why?”
“Because where there are three Moons, there’s a parole officer.”
“C’mon, Travis. None of us ever shoplifted from your store.”
“No, that was your daddy. Oh damn. I don’t mean to be insensitive. I’m sorry about his passing.”
With a shake of his head, Zayden chuckled. “I’m not.” He set a couple items on the counter and nodded toward the stacks of feed. “I need a couple bags plus this.”
Travis rang him up and then peered through his squared bifocals. “$42.92.”
Zayden grunted and peeled off a couple bills. “Your prices have gone up since I was in here last.”
“That was a good decade ago, Moon. Which one are you, by the way?”
Amusement twitched the corner of his lips. “Zayden.”
“That’s right. You were in school with my granddaughter, but you dropped out and didn’t graduate with her.”
“That’s me.” He picked up the bag and moved to the feed. Being back in a small town like Stokes, and known by everyone, wasn’t giving him any warm, fuzzy feelings.
He tossed one bag of feed over his shoulder, went to the truck, and dropped it into the bed. Then he turned back for the second bag.
When he got inside, Travis and another older man in coveralls were standing around, shooting the breeze. He caught snippets of their conversation as he hefted the next bag of feed.
“Missing?” Travis’ raised voice carried to him.
“That’s the tale. A sad one too. She’s lost on the mountain.”
“In the middle of that squall? God, it’s gotta be comin’ down around her ears by now.”
The other man nodded. “Guess her boyfriend called it in.”
“Foul play?”
The man shrugged. “There’s a search party going out in half hour.”
Zayden lowered the bag to the stack again and turned to them. “How old is the woman?”
“Dunno. Grown but still young enough. I heard a rumor at the credit union that she’d gone on a retreat with her boyfriend for Valentine’s Day, but I ain’t sure about that.”
“Damn, that’s rough.” Zayden picked up the bag again.
“Not many know that mountain,” Travis said.
He stopped in his tracks. He knew if he turned to the men, they’d be staring at him.
“You know that mountain, Moon,” he said.
Zayden grunted and shot him a glance. Sure enough, they were both looking at him expectantly.
“No one knows that mountain like you do, Zayden.”
Dammit, they were dumping more on his shoulders, and the floundering ranch and his father’s death were enough.
“You might be her only chance,” Travis added.
Hell.
He couldn’t walk away from that truth.
Hoisting the bag over his shoulder again, he said, “Tell them I’m in. But I’m going up solo.”
One of the men let out a cheer, and he didn’t look back to see who. He dumped the other bag into the truck and closed the tailgate. Then he jumped behind the wheel and looked out at the mountain.
It appeared whited out, the top completely invisible. If there was a woman up there, she didn’t have long. He needed more particulars before he headed home for his gear. He drove down the street a ways.
When he pulled into the fire station, the chief and a few other men were in the parking lot, scrambling their search party.
Zayden got out and started toward them. The chief looked up and groaned loudly. “You set fire to something up on that ranch o’ yours, Moon? Because we got better things to do than put out a blaze.”
God, he hated this town.
“I’m joining the search. Where was she last seen?”
“One of the cabins owned by Raedke. You know them?”
He gave a hard nod. “Which cabin?”
“The upper one.”
“Why the hell is there even access to that cabin this time of year? Nobody should be on that mountain.”
“I agree, but take it up with Raedke.”
They all knew that idiot was out for a buck and didn’t give a crap about safety. Besides some mountain cabins he rented to tourists, he owned a trailer park and a few rental units known for unsafe conditions such as gas leaks.
“I’ll head up there now.” Zayden turned for the truck. The chief called out for him to wait, but he ignored him and drove away.
At the road to the mountain, he paused to put chains on his tires. The long, snow-covered road took ages to navigate, and he could do better if he had a snowmobile, but any big boy toys owned by the Moons had long since been traded for whiskey, if they had ever existed.
When he reached the flatter part of the mountain where the cabin was located, the snow piled in deep drifts along the wooden walls. Not a tire track could be seen. Footprint either, for that matter.
He jumped out of the truck and
ran to the door. The place wasn’t locked, and he quickly scoured the cabin, finding nothing but a rumpled bed and a towel drying on a bar in the bathroom.
She wasn’t here, and hadn’t been for some time. The best he could do was head back down and hope to spot her or a track leading to her.
Who the hell was this woman? Clearly a dumb one, if she had risked the mountain cabin in February. Colorado weather was unpredictable at this time of year, at best. And deadly at worst. He’d known plenty of hikers who succumbed to the elements in the dead of summer, let alone in a storm.
As he started down the mountain, he passed two snowmobiles heading up. He braked and rolled down his window. “She’s not there. Must have gone on foot.”
One of the men shook his head. “We’ll start a search.”
Most likely they were looking for a body.
He rolled on down the road, swinging his head side to side, looking for signs of the woman.
If she was smart, she’d search for the cabin Raedke owned that sat lower on the mountain. That cabin perched slightly around the one side, more shielded from the weather, and could be reached on foot, by a determined person.
Was she determined enough?
He sure hoped so—he didn’t relish finding her frozen to death in a snow bank.
The drive back down the mountain took longer under icy conditions. When he reached the bottom, he stared upward, squinting through the snow.
A gut feeling told him to look on the sheltered side of the mountain. He could go in on foot, but he’d ridden those trails in winter with a good horse and the right gear. Mentally, he compiled a list of essentials and drove back to the ranch quickly.
He’d no sooner reached it than Mimi was coming out of the house to meet him. “Dane’s still not here,” she said with concern on her face.
“He’s a big boy. He’ll find his way home.” How many times had Zayden spoken those words about his father and now his brother too? “I’m going back up the mountain, and I’m taking the white horse. He’s strong and got the balance for winter trails.”
“You’re searching for that woman, aren’t you?” She gave a little shiver from standing in the cold or maybe from the idea of a woman lost outdoors.
“Yeah. I could use some things thrown into a pack if you don’t mind—water, medicines, whatever you think she might need when I find her.” He didn’t say if he found her, because he didn’t plan to fail.
In the barn, he gathered what he needed and began readying the horse for a ride. He hitched the horse trailer to his truck and guided the animal inside. Then he returned to the house and took the pack from Mimi. He gave her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek.
“Good luck, Zayden.” She waved him away.
“I’ll need it.” He jumped behind the wheel and was off, driving to the base of the mountain where he could circle around and hit the trail less covered by snow.
It took him all of a few minutes to mount up and head for the trail. With the horse wearing a blanket but not one so thick that it would sweat and become chilled, and him in a heavy Carhartt, gloves and his cowboy hat pushed down over his ears, he settled in for a long journey.
The trail wasn’t perfect, but he knew the lay of the land and took the best routes to spare the horse from a slip and conserve energy. A good amount of snow remained here, but the line of pines seemed to buffer some of the wind.
On the other side of the mountain, he caught the drone of snowmobile engines at times before the wind would howl again.
When was the last he’d been up here? Years, too many to count. If she knew of the cabin here in the lower elevation, she’d surely make her way to it. Was there even a cell tower that serviced this area? He doubted it.
With encouraging words to his mount, he guided them closer and closer to the cabin. As he neared the front door, he spotted a few footprints in the snow, and his heart grabbed in his chest.
Hastily, he moved the horse forward and jumped out of the saddle. After hitting the snow with a soft thump, he rushed to the door. Judging by the broken window pane, she’d been here. A fallen branch couldn’t break out one pane of glass so perfectly.
He tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. He threw it wide and stepped into the cabin.
One glance revealed evidence she had been here at one point. But after a quick search, he only found warm ashes in the fireplace and… a scrap of black lingerie?
He gingerly picked the garment up so it dangled off a fingertip. “What the hell?”
* * * * *
I should have stayed at the cabin. At least it was warm and dry.
After wandering south on the mountain for what felt like hours, she didn’t have a clue where she was. Guess that makes me lost too.
She definitely should not play the lottery this week—she was losing at every turn.
At least I’m not dead. The grim thought offered no boost of morale to get down the mountain faster. Getting off the trail sounded like a good idea, because the pines saved her from the icy blast of wind. But the pines didn’t seem to be growing in the direction she wanted to go.
“Well, it worked once, right?” She eyed the pines and picked her way along the line, in search of some nice low-hanging branches.
Once she found a good place to sit and wait, she took a handful of snow in the palm of her glove and stuffed it into her mouth. It melted on her tongue, but did nothing to stave off her hunger or thirst. She ate another, ignoring the black conspicuous specks in the pristine white. Whoever said snow was clean had never eaten it.
She curled her knees up and dropped her head to them, fighting off tears of self-pity. She wouldn’t waste the energy to cry, and she sure wouldn’t shed a tear for Owen.
How many hours had she been out here now? The sun would soon be dipping over the horizon, and then she’d face a night alone in the elements.
A tear trickled down her cheek.
What felt like hours passed. A snuffing noise reached her, muffled but still an unusual sound. Great—now I’ll be eaten by wolves.
The footsteps neared… then she heard a whinny.
On hands and knees, she scrambled out of her hiding place. Horse hooves appeared inches from her face, and a cry lodged in her throat.
She was about to call for help, but the rider wheeled the horse around and dismounted in one slick motion.
“Thank God,” she cried.
He grabbed her by the shoulders, hazel eyes scanning her from head to foot. “What’s your name?”
“Esme.”
“How long have you been out here?”
“Too long.”
“Can you stand? Never mind. C’mere.” Without waiting for her reply, he scooped her into his arms. The warm strength of them enveloping her pulled more tears from her eyes. She allowed the weakness she’d been battling for hours to overcome her, trusting that this man would keep her safe.
“Can you put your arms around me? I’m going to lift you into the saddle.”
Her frozen limbs complied when she ordered them to. He was broad, muscles flexing under her arms as he lifted her onto horseback as though she weighed nothing.
“Don’t slip out of the saddle now. I’m going to mount behind you.” No sooner had he spoken that, he settled behind her. She shuddered at the contact of his body, the heat melting her some.
“You’re freezing. Here.” A second later, a heavy woolen blanket landed over her front, and she was plastered to his warm body from behind. Her eyelids closed. Exhaustion overtook her.
“I got you, girl. Don’t worry now.”
She wouldn’t—she was far too tired and would let her mystery rescuer do the worrying for both of them.
Chapter Three
The woman was more hair and big green eyes than anything. As Zayden drew her off the horse into his arms and carried her into the cabin, he couldn’t help but think how long it’d been since he’d laid hands on the opposite sex.
She wore so many wet layers of clothing, he couldn’
t discern her size or shape, and right now, his first priority wasn’t finding out. He had to get her warm and dry.
The sun steadily sank, and there was no way in hell he could get her down the mountain before darkness set in. Taking shelter in the cabin sounded like the best plan, and it had a small shed out back where he could keep the horse out of the elements.
First, the woman. Esme. What a strange name. But looking into her sea green eyes, he couldn’t think of any name that would suit her better.
With her in his arms, he managed to open the cabin door and carry her to the sofa. She sat there, unmoving, and he wondered how far hypothermia had set in if she wasn’t attempting to pull off her wet clothes.
He went for her gloves first. Soaked and heavy. He tossed them toward the fireplace and reached for the zipper of her coat. She stared at him while he removed the wet garment and tossed it aside too.
At least she wasn’t only wearing a scrap of black lace and her boots were relatively dry.
He pulled these off next, followed by her socks, damp at the toes.
“You’re lucky,” he muttered. Wet feet usually meant a death sentence.
“I’m tired.”
“I bet. First, we get you dry. Can you stand? I need to get you out of these wet pants.”
Her eyes settled on his, the color like a gem at the bottom of a crystalline sea. “I can stand, but do I need to take off my pants?”
“Yes.” His tone brooked no arguments. He took her by the upper arms and hauled her to her feet. She swayed a moment, but her hands worked to unfasten her jeans.
It took some awkward maneuvers to pull the wet denim off her feet, but he threw the jeans toward the fireplace too.
“Here. Wrap up in this.” He tucked the blanket around her and moved to the fireplace. Kneeling before it, he stacked wood and kindling, crinkling some newspaper some nice camper had left behind. Seconds after lighting a match, the flames licked at the dry wood.
He grabbed the backs of two wooden kitchen chairs and dragged them to the fire, using one to drape the wet garments over, and returned to Esme.
Extending a hand, he studied her. “Come sit by the fire and warm up.”
