Alaskan Hero

by Teri Wilson

  “Guess what I have in my backpack?” Anya asked, her eyes dancing.

  “Another dog?” he teased.

  “No, silly. A picnic.”

  “Only an Alaskan would consider a mountaintop picnic in subzero temperatures a good idea.” He grinned. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m an Alaskan now.”

  “It’s the very best thing.” She leaned over and cupped his face with her delicate hands.

  He’d very nearly lost her. And God had led him to find her just in time. He would never forget what the Lord had done that day on the mountain. He’d spend a lifetime giving thanks and loving Anya with his whole heart as they continued their search and rescue work. Here in Alaska. Together.

  Not because Brock felt he had to, not because he was still fighting old battles, but because it was his calling. He had a purpose here. And now that he was doing it for the right reasons, with the woman he loved by his side, he found he enjoyed it more than ever before.

  “I love you, you know,” Anya whispered as he bent to kiss her.

  He murmured against the softness of her lips, “And I love you.”

  Anya’s eyes fluttered open. As always, the full force of her violet gaze made him weak in the knees. She smiled at him. Then her gaze shifted. She glanced over his shoulder and let out a tiny gasp.

  “Look, it’s snowing.” She pointed toward the horizon, where snowflakes were just beginning to float around the treetops in a glorious swirl of white. “Isn’t it pretty?”

  Brock looked up.

  To anyone else, it may have appeared to be an ordinary snowy day in Alaska. Snow was nothing new here. It snowed more often than not in Aurora. But to him, there was nothing ordinary about it. Snowflakes drifted through the evergreens, gently falling from the heavens. For once, the sight of them failed to fill him with dread. The bitterness he’d carried with him since he was a boy was strangely absent.

  Overcome, Brock lifted his face to the sky and let the snow dance against his skin, bathing him in a soft benediction. He was rewarded with a sense of wonder he’d never before understood he was missing.

  A slow smile came to his lips as he realized what was happening. A change was taking place. One he’d never expected, even after all the Lord had done for him.

  Finally he could appreciate what he’d been unable to see before. It had taken a lifetime for him to get here. But he’d made it. After all the heartache and restless searching—all the faraway mountaintops, all those he’d loved and lost—with his brave, beautiful wife at his side, Brock Parker could at long last see the beauty in a gentle snowfall.

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed this story by Teri Wilson,

  be sure to check out the other books

  this month from Love Inspired!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Rancher's Refuge by Linda Goodnight

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome back to Aurora, Alaska!

  Alaska is a place where I’ll always return, both in my writing and in real life. The beautiful scenery, quirky charm and independent spirit of the Alaskan people never fail to inspire me. From first sight, I fell in love with the state. The view of the snow-covered mountains from the airplane window looked like sugared icing on a cake, and I was hooked.

  In Alaskan Hero, Brock Parker has traveled to countless faraway mountaintops as part of his job as an avalanche search and rescue patrolman. But Alaska is like no place he’s ever been. And Anya Petrova is like no woman he’s ever known. They both have painful pasts that make it difficult to open their hearts to love and the meaning of God’s plan. Everything changes the day of the avalanche, and amid the dangerous beauty of an Alaskan winter, they come to realize love is the thing most worth searching for.

  Avalanche search dogs and their handlers work all over the world, just like on the pages of Alaskan Hero. I was fascinated learning all about the important lifesaving work they do. I hope their bravery and dedication touch your heart, as well.

  Alaskan Hero is the second book in my Alaska series. If you enjoyed Anya and Brock’s story, I hope you’ll check out the first book, Alaskan Hearts. And be sure to look for an Alaskan Christmas story coming this holiday season!

  Wishing you all of God’s blessings and peace,

  Teri Wilson

  Questions for Discussion

  At the opening of Alaskan Hero, Anya encounters a man dressed in a bear suit. What kind of assumptions does she make about Brock based on his surprising appearance? How are these assumptions both correct and incorrect?

  Brock plunges Anya into the world of dog training without explaining the tasks he’s asking her to perform. What is your opinion of this teaching technique?

  What incidents in Anya’s past make her so determined not to give up Dolce, even though the dog’s behavior may get her kicked out of her apartment?

  Anya finds it difficult to have a meaningful conversation with her mother. Have you experienced such challenges with your mother? Why or why not?

  Brock’s job keeps him moving from one exotic place to the next. What do you think would be the advantages and disadvantages of this lifestyle?

  What part of Brock and Anya’s story hit home with you the most?

  Anya has a strong emotional reaction when she first learns that Brock is only in Aurora temporarily. Do you feel that her reaction is justified? Why or why not?

  Have you ever heard of an event like the Reindeer Run? Would you have participated in this event if you were there? Why or why not?

  How does Anya’s newfound faith in God impact Brock in this story?

  Was the portrayal of Alaska in this story as you expected? Do you feel the Alaskan setting enhanced the romance between Brock and Anya? Why or why not?

  What role do the dogs play in Alaskan Hero?

  Why does Brock struggle with being labeled a hero? Do you consider him a hero? Why or why not?

  Brock and Anya both have difficulty coming to terms with God’s calling for their lives. Do you believe God has a specific calling for your life? Why or why not? If so, when and how did you first recognize this calling?

  What significance does snow play in Alaskan Hero? How does the symbolism of snow change as the story progresses?

  What was your favorite part of this book?

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired story.

  You believe hearts can heal. Love Inspired stories show that faith, forgiveness and hope have the power to lift spirits and change lives—always.

  Enjoy six new stories from Love Inspired every month!

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  Chapter One

  Left hand riding lightly on his thigh, Austin Blackwell held the reins with the other and picked his way through the thick woods above Whisper Falls, Arkansas. If one more calf strayed into this no-man’s land between his ranch and the cascading waterfall, he was putting up another fence. A really tall one. Barbed wire. Electrified. Let the folks of the small Ozark town whine and bellow that he was ruining the ambience or whatever they called the pristine beauty of these deep woods. They just didn’t want to lose any tourist money. Well, he didn’t want to lose any cattle money, either. So they were on even playing field. He’d never wanted to open the waterfall to tourism in the first place.

  Now, every yahoo with an itch to climb dow
n the rock wall cliff and duck behind the curtain of silvery water traipsed all over his property just to mutter a prayer or two. Wishful thinking or pure silliness. He’d made the trek a few times himself and he could guarantee prayers whispered there or anywhere else for that matter were a waste of good breath.

  Something moved through the dense trees at his left and Austin pulled the horse to a stop. Cisco flicked his ears toward the movement, alert and ready to break after the maverick at the flinch of his master’s knee.

  “Easy,” Austin murmured, patting the sleek brown neck while he scoped the woods, waiting for a sight or sound. Above him a squirrel chattered, getting ready for winter. Autumn leaves in reds and golds swirled down from the branches. Sunlight dappled between the trees, although the temperature was cool enough that Austin’s jacket felt good.

  He pressed his white Stetson tighter and urged the bay onward in the direction of the falls, the direction from which the movement had come. Might be the maverick.

  “Coyote, probably.” But black bear and cougar weren’t out of the question. He tapped the rifle holster, confident he could handle anything he encountered in the woods. Outside the ranch was a different matter.

  The roar of the falls increased as he rode closer. Something moved again and he twisted in the saddle to see the stray heifer break from the opposite direction. Cisco responded with the training of a good cutting horse. Austin grappled for the lariat rope as the calf split to the right and crashed through the woods to disappear down a draw.

  Cisco wisely put on the brakes and waited for instructions. Austin lowered the rope, mouth twisting in frustration. No use endangering a good horse in this rugged, uneven terrain.

  At least the stray had headed in the right direction, back toward the ranch.

  “Yep, I’m puttin’ up another fence.” He patted Cisco’s neck with a leather-gloved hand. Somewhere along the meager stretch of old barbed wire the calves had found a place to slip through. Maybe in one of the low places or through a washout from one of the many creeks branching from the Blackberry River. Finding the break across three miles of snaggy underbrush would be a challenge.

  But Austin liked it up here on the grassy, leaf- and hickory-lined ridge above Whisper Falls. Always had, especially before the stories started and people came with their noise and tents and plastic water bottles. Before the name changed from Millerville to Whisper Falls—a town council decision to attract tourists. He understood. He really did. Ruggedly beautiful, this area of the Ozarks was isolated. Transportation was poor and there was little opportunity for economic growth, especially since the pumpkin cannery shut down.

  The remoteness was why he’d come here. The economy was why he ranched.

  Those were also the reasons the little town had changed its name and started the ridiculous marketing campaign to attract tourism. Whisper Falls. Austin snorted. No amount of marketing moved God to answer prayers.

  He shifted in the saddle to look toward the ninety-feet-high waterfall.

  Here, the Blackberry River tumbled faster than near the ranch, picking up speed before plummeting over the cliff in a white, foamy, spectacular display of nature’s force and beauty.

  The solitude of the woods soothed him, helped him forget. Nature didn’t judge the way people would. He could be himself. He could relax.

  The air was clean here, too, tinted with the spray of freshness from the bubbling falls. It almost made him feel clean inside again. Almost. He breathed the crispness into his lungs, held the scent. Hickory and river, moist earth and rotting leaves. Good smells to an outdoorsman. Great smells to a man whose past stank like sewage.

  “Better get moving, Cisco. Maybe we can find the fence break before dark.”

  He pulled the bay around and that’s when he saw the woman. A slim figure in dark slacks and bright blue sweater moved quickly from tree to tree in some game of hide-and-seek. Curious, Austin took out his field glasses to look around, expecting a child or lover to join the game. No one did.

  Austin swung the binoculars back to the woman. What he saw spurred him to action.

  * * *

  Annalisa Keller stifled a sob. She had to hide. She had to get away. “Please, God. Help.”

  She heard him coming, thrashing, crashing through the dry leaves and underbrush like the madman he was. Knees rattling, she cradled her left arm and stumbled down the rocky incline. Straight ahead, the falls roared, a rush of sound with the power to sweep her away. The thought tempted, beckoned. Jump in and be swept away. He could never find her. No one would.

  Teeth chattering, she resisted the frightening urge. The instinct to survive was too strong. She couldn’t give up now.

  “Help me, God,” she whispered again, grappling to the sides of slick rock, edging closer to the beckoning water, to the screaming falls. The footpath was worn and well-used, as if others had come this way before her. She followed the stones, clinging with cold fingers to the jutting rocks as she edged along the cliff face, hoping to hide from searching eyes above.

  The roar of the falls grew louder still. Her heart thundered in answer. Before her was the waterfall. Behind her was the direction she’d come. An awful thought engulfed her. Why had she begun the descent to the falls? If he spotted her, she’d be trapped between him and the raging water.

  But she knew why. She’d been running blindly with no destination in mind other than escape.

  She sensed him coming, felt the air change with another presence. In desperation, Annalisa moved forward, praying there was sanctuary against the wet cliff face. One more step and...

  The world went silent. A deafening silence.

  Shocked, Annalisa wondered for one beat if she’d actually jumped into the foaming pool below the waterfall, if she was dead.

  Trembling, she reached out, touched the silver curtain of water in front of her. A hard rain shower soaked her hand, cold and prickly like needles of ice.

  In awe, she glanced to each side and then upward. The sight was dizzying. Behind was solid rock, wet and slick and shiny, with a jutting overhang high above. Water rocketed over the cliff with such force that a quiet space, like a white-noise machine, formed behind the cascade. She stood on a two-foot ledge, protected in the back by a wall of rock and hidden in front by the waterfall. It was like something out of the movie The Last of the Mohicans.

  Her shoulders relaxed a tiny bit. Maybe James hadn’t seen her descend. Maybe he wouldn’t know she was here. Warmth oozed from her nose. Swiping at the liquid with the back of her hand, Annalisa came away with blood. She shivered, both from cold and shock.

  James had nearly killed her this time. He’d kicked her out of the car, tried to run her down and then driven away. She’d seen him angry plenty of times, but never like this. Never so completely out of control.

  With a shaky sigh, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the hard, damp rocks at her back. Her arm ached all the way to her wrenched shoulder. She wondered if the bone was broken.

  Never again. Never, never again. She’d said that the first time he’d hurt her, but this time she meant it.

  She listened, intent, but could hear nothing from within the watery cocoon.

  Maybe James hadn’t followed her. Maybe he would go home to California without her. He’d said she wasn’t worth the headache. But she also knew his terrible egotistical pride. James got what James wanted. He hated being the loser.

  A scrambling noise jerked her to attention. A rock clattered against rock.

  Annalisa’s heart jacked into overdrive. Blood pounded in her ears. If he’d found her, she was as good as dead, a casualty to the rocky pool below. No one would ever know he’d pushed her.

  For a second she was helpless. Then the need to survive kicked in. He would not take her down easily.

  With her one good hand, she groped the space at her feet and fo
und what she needed. A rock. A small one, but a weapon just the same.

  The sound of movement increased, grew closer. A shadow moved. A big shadow.

  Shaking hard, she raised her arm.

  A hulk ducked behind the curtain of water. Annalisa’s heart hammered wildly. She braced to defend.

  “Hey, lady, are you ok—”

  With a sob, she struck, crashing the rock down with all her ebbing strength.

  “Hey!” The shadow staggered back, arm upraised in defense.

  The haze of fear cleared from Annalisa’s eyes. A man had joined her behind the falls but not James. He wasn’t James. He was a big, dark, angry stranger in a cowboy hat.

  And she’d bashed him with a rock.

  * * *

  Austin blinked rapidly at the slender woman with the stunned face. She was as pale as strained milk and bleeding from the nose and mouth.

  “What’s going on here?”

  She dropped her whamming rock and shrunk away from him.

  Austin frowned. Why the heck was she cowering?

  “I’m sorry. I thought—” She clamped her pale, chattering lips shut.

  He rubbed at the growing knot at his temple, surprised to find his hat barely askew. As he adjusted the Stetson, the stars subsided enough that he could remember why he’d come down from the ridge to begin with. “What happened to your face?”

  She shook her head. Hair as gold as a palomino horse clung to the sides of her face. It was a good face, nice bone structure, with long blue eyes that took up a lot of physical real estate. But her nose was bleeding and her upper lip puffed out like a bee sting.