Sweetbriar Cottage

by Denise Hunter

  Josephine got off the machine and stretched, stuffing her hands into the deep coat pockets. It had been slow going, tracking Kismet. Some of the roads were windswept, covering the tracks, and in other places deer and other animals had left prints, forcing Noah off the snowmobile for a closer look.

  She got into the backpack and took a sip from the thermos. The warm coffee felt good going down. She capped the thermos and secured the pack to the back, forcing it into place.

  A few minutes later Noah came out, striding toward the snow machine. He held out a helmet and a pair of women’s gloves.

  It galled her to borrow from Noah’s girlfriend, but her hands were freezing, and he’d probably insist on the helmet.

  She took the items with a smile, blinking innocently. “And how’s little Mary Beth?”

  “She’s still sick, for your information.”

  If he’d meant to make her feel bad, it worked. But he didn’t have to know that. “Maybe you should stay and take care of her.”

  “She’s got her dad here, and I have a horse to find, remember?” He shoved his helmet on his head. “Are you coming or what?”

  Josephine slid the helmet on, adjusting its weight. It felt heavy and awkward on her head, but she was glad for the visor, which would block the wind.

  The snowmobile surged forward, and she grabbed onto Noah’s coat, trying to keep some space between them. But it was hard with their gear crowding her from behind. When he got out to the road he gave the machine more gas, pressing her farther into the gear. Something hard poked into her back. She must’ve displaced things when she’d replaced the backpack.

  Holding tight with one hand she elbowed the gear behind her. The pressure against her back finally gave. She adjusted her helmet and grabbed onto Noah’s coat again.

  When they reached the main road, he slowed a bit to follow Kismet’s trail. As they rode farther into the mountains, the road curved and wound. The hilly pastures had given way to rugged mountain terrain, steep on one side of the road and dropping off on the other. Up and down and around. Her stomach was starting to feel unsettled. Not that she was going to complain.

  After what seemed like an hour later he slowed the machine. The hoofprints left the road, heading into the woods. Pine trees swayed high overhead, but there was little low-lying brush to impede a horse or a snowmobile. There was, however, a creek off in the distance.

  Noah turned off the machine. “I’ll be right back.”

  He followed the trail toward the bubbling creek, about twenty yards from the road, and stopped, hands on hips. Josephine stood, stretching, and scanned the distance, hoping to sight the horse. Even with the face shield and gloves, it was cold. The wind seemed to blow right through her coat.

  A few minutes later he returned. “Have you ever driven one of these?”

  “No.”

  “Kismet crossed the stream. I can’t see where the trail leads, but there’s a forest service road across the creek. It’ll save time if I track while you drive to the other side. It’s pretty straightforward.”

  She nodded, easing forward on the seat, and Noah gave her a quick tutorial.

  “Got it?” he asked when he was finished.

  “I think so.”

  “You’ll see the road on the right. It’s one lane. Take it a couple miles.” He pointed into the distance. “See that outcropping of rock?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Okay.” She turned the key and the machine fired up, rumbling beneath her. Following his instruction, she eased away. Ten slow minutes later she was wondering if she’d missed the turn. But then, just up ahead, she spotted a turnoff. It was narrow and uphill and had a little sign sticking out of the snow that read SR 259. This had to be it.

  Josephine gunned the engine and took the hill easily enough. It was even kind of fun. She could see why people did this for sport. Gaining confidence, she took the next stretch a little less cautiously. The road turned and curved and went up and down over the mountain. She was starting to wonder if she was ever going to end up by that outcropping when she spotted Noah by the road ahead.

  She eased to a stop beside him. “Did you find Kismet’s trail?”

  “Fortunately for us, he likes the roads. It picks up just down the way.”

  She scooted back on the seat as he put on his helmet.

  “I can’t believe he’s still going,” she said. “I didn’t think he’d get this far.”

  “He’s pretty high-strung. That bear scared him good.”

  She felt a prick of guilt at the thought of the bear, but Noah didn’t seem angry anymore. Not that he was warm exactly either.

  He hopped on, and they pressed forward. Josephine kept her eyes peeled over Noah’s shoulder. Her back began to ache from the distance she kept, and her fingers grew stiff from gripping his coat. She found herself sinking into him, inch by inch. One of her arms slid around him, clutching tighter as he took a turn.

  How long had they been out here? It had to be going on noon. Her bladder was crying out, especially when they hit bumpy spots. They’d followed Kismet’s tracks onto numerous unmarked branches of the service roads. The current one seemed more like an ATV trail than a road, and she had a feeling there was nothing but dirt beneath the layers of snow.

  A short while later Noah slowed to a stop.

  “What’s wrong? You see something?”

  He shut off the engine. “Time for a break. I need to gas up.”

  She saw the thick groves of pine and underbrush on both sides of the road, and her bladder cheered.

  She got off the machine and pulled off her helmet. “Where does this road even go?”

  Noah stretched. “Who knows? Service roads go on for miles and miles. It’s a virtual maze spread over a thousand square miles. Don’t you worry though. We can follow our tracks out.”

  “I think I’m gonna . . .” She pointed toward the woods, heading that direction.

  She waded through the snow—at least seven or eight inches. The smell of pine was so heavy in the air it suffused each breath. And the snow-covered mountains were a sight, even if she was shivering from the cold.

  Once she emptied her bladder she was going to have a nice warm cup of coffee. And one of the granola bars she’d found in the bottom of the pantry.

  “Josie . . .”

  She turned at Noah’s strained voice.

  He was frowning at the machine. Then at her. “Where’s the gas?” His words were clipped.

  “What—what do you mean?”

  “The red gas container I strapped on the back.” His tone was sharp as a knife.

  She waded slowly back to the machine as if she might find the container if only she had a better view. Or maybe find it lying on the other side, out of sight.

  But inside she was remembering. She was visualizing the plastic container strapped between her and the backpack. The pack was still there.

  Oh no. She bit her lip.

  “What. Did. You. Do?”

  Her gaze bounced off him. Her chest felt weighted with the words she had to say. “The—the belt thing was digging into my back. I gave it a little shove to make room, that’s all.”

  His face was like rock. “You gave it a little shove.”

  This wasn’t good. Not at all. Even she could see that.

  He ran his hands over his face, then shelved them on his hips. “Josie, that buckle was a push-button release. You released the belt, and the gas container went flying off the back.” His chest expanded with a breath, and he sighed hard. “Where? When did this happen? We’ll just have to circle back and get it.”

  She didn’t want to say the words out loud. Not the way he was looking at her. She was such an idiot. Why couldn’t she do anything right?

  “Josie?”

  She swallowed hard. “It was a long time ago.”

  “How long?”

  “Right—right after we left Mary Beth’s.”

  He turned away, lookin
g skyward, laughing. Not the good kind either. She’d never seen a madman, but he was giving a good impression.

  She closed her mouth, giving him a moment. It looked like he needed a really long one. And she could hardly blame him.

  By the time he turned around his eyes had lost that wild look. His jaw still twitched though. He gave a hard exhale, his breath fogging in front of him.

  “We—we don’t have enough gas to get back?”

  “No, we don’t have enough to get back, Josie. We’re running on fumes right now.”

  “Oh.” Her word was barely audible.

  The urgency to urinate pressed on her, and she fought the urge to squirm like a little girl.

  “Go . . .” He flung out his hand. “Use the facilities. I have to think.”

  The “facilities” were a snowy spot about fifteen yards off the road in the middle of a thick copse of small evergreens.

  When she was finished she made her way slowly back to the road, dread weighting each step.

  Noah was perched sideways on the seat, hands on his knees, when she returned. He looked up at her approach. The expression on his face made her think she might fare better back in the woods with the wild animals. She stopped a safe distance away, squirming under his stony look.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and forced herself to ask the question. “What are we going to do?”

  “We’re going to backtrack. Take the machine until it stops and walk from there.”

  “Walk? But we’ve come miles and miles.”

  His eyes snapped with fire. “I’m aware of that.”

  “Shouldn’t—shouldn’t we just keep heading the way we’re going? Maybe we’ll come across Kismet soon.”

  “Even if we do, he’s not going to be in any condition to carry us. Even if I trusted him—and I don’t.”

  “Well, surely we’d find civilization sooner if we just continue on. We’ve been on this road for an hour. It must lead somewhere.”

  “Weren’t you listening before? This road could go for miles and miles without so much as a mailbox. We could take branch after branch and freeze to death before we ever found our way out of here.”

  The blood blanched from her face. “But it’s such a long way back.”

  He cupped the back of his neck. “We have some supplies. And we can take some shortcuts through the woods. We don’t have any other choice.”

  Chapter 22

  Ten minutes later the snowmobile began sputtering. Noah had used every bit of those minutes to deep-breathe away his frustration. Too bad it didn’t seem to be working. He’d also done some math. They had to make it back to the main road for any chance of help. They’d been on the service roads two hours, going about twenty miles per hour. They were forty miles from help, minus a couple shortcuts.

  They had roughly six hours till sunset. Even if they could walk four miles per hour—almost impossible in the deep snow—they’d only cover twenty-four miles. Unless they came across someone—also unlikely—they were going to be stuck out here tonight.

  The machine finally sputtered to a stop, the engine dying. The sudden silence was ominous.

  “End of the road.” He heard the tightness in his voice, but who could blame him?

  He took off his helmet and waited for Josephine to dismount, his mind in gear. While she replaced her helmet with the coat hood, he unbuckled the backpack from the machine and shouldered his rifle. Then he reached into the closed compartment for the unopened emergency kit his mom had gotten him for Christmas a couple years ago. Thank God for moms.

  A glance at the label gave him a measure of comfort: lighter, utility knife, mini-saw, mini-flashlight, and a few first-aid items.

  He stuffed the kit into the backpack and considered taking the helmets for warmth tonight. In the end he decided against the extra weight. They should be warm enough with a fire and whatever kind of shelter he could find or make. Instead, he opened the visor on his helmet, worked it off, and stuffed it into the backpack. It would work as a handy little shovel later.

  Josie’s stomach gave a rumble that sounded like an approaching avalanche. They both needed sustenance for the long walk. He rooted through the bag to see what she’d packed. It was going to have to last them awhile. He pulled out two plastic bags, one full of snacks, the other water bottles. He grabbed the granola bars and handed one to her.

  Her face peeked out of the fur-lined hood. “Thanks.”

  “We should walk as we eat. We have a lot of ground to cover.” He shouldered the bag and started off.

  She trotted after him. “I can carry something.”

  “I got it.”

  He set off at a challenging pace, plowing through the snow. “It’ll be easier if you follow in my footsteps,” he said over his shoulder.

  And easier for both of them if he didn’t have to see her for a while.

  Josephine’s face tingled with cold, and her lungs burned in her chest. She almost had to trot to keep Noah’s pace, but she was determined not to slow him down. She’d caused enough trouble.

  They’d been walking in silence a couple hours when he finally slowed, looking out through the woods.

  Josephine stopped, grateful for a chance to catch her breath. It was official. She was woefully out of shape. When she got home she was starting an exercise regimen. Her shallow puffs of air were all that broke the silence. Irritatingly enough, Noah wasn’t even breathing hard.

  “We’re going to take a shortcut,” he said a moment later. “The road switches back, around the corner ahead.” He pointed across the woods. “See the road through there? The terrain’s a little more challenging, but we can cut half a mile or so.”

  Josephine nodded. “Lead on.”

  She followed him down the slippery slope beside the road, then through the evergreen forest. The ground was uneven, and the undergrowth thick in places, but when they made it back onto the road, she had to admit it had been a good trade-off.

  She remembered this next stretch of road and realized how far they had yet to go. The weight of that was like a boulder in her stomach.

  “We’re not going to make it back tonight, are we?”

  “No.”

  Her feet were already half-frozen from plowing through the snow, and her toes were numb. She thought of a full night out here, where the temperatures would surely drop . . . to say nothing of the other dangers. Bears and heaven knew what other creatures might be prowling around out here.

  And the dark. Let’s not forget about that.

  A shiver of fear clawed up her spine. “Noah . . . are we going to be all right?”

  He glanced over his shoulder, probably hearing the tremor in her voice. “We’ll be fine. It won’t be a picnic, but we’ll survive.”

  His reassurance gave her a measure of relief. She trusted him, she realized. If he said they’d be fine, they would. He’d been a Boy Scout and a US Marine, for pity’s sake.

  “You doing okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  It was the kindest thing he’d said since they’d started off. The sharpness was gone from his tone, and she was grateful for that at least.

  “What about Shadow? And your horses? Will they be all right overnight?”

  “Shadow will make do. He’s never been shy about drinking from the toilet. As for the horses, the hay hut’s full, and they have water. No need to worry.”

  His kindness was enough to carry her through the next few long hours. Through the deep ache of her leg muscles. Through the bone-deep chill of her fingers and toes, and the blisters burning on her feet.

  She was ready to drop when Noah finally stopped, hours later, and scanned the surrounding area. To the right of the road a hill rose at a sharp incline. To the left there was a short drop-off. Evergreens abounded, shielding them from the wind.

  “This is a good place to set up camp. Sheltered from the wind, plenty of pine boughs for a makeshift bed. And I can hear a creek somewhere close by.”

  She thought they
had at least an hour before they lost light, but she wasn’t going to complain.

  She followed him through the woods, and he helped her down the steep incline. Her legs trembling with exhaustion, she made a beeline for a fat, snow-covered log.

  “Wait,” Noah said before she could brush the snow away. He dug in the backpack and came up with the windshield he’d pried from the helmet. “Use this. Try not to get your gloves wet. Are your feet dry?”

  She gave a wry laugh. “I don’t know. I can’t feel them anymore.”

  “Well . . . check and see. If they’re wet we need to dry out your socks and boots over the fire.”

  Her eyes shot to his. “We’re going to have a fire?”

  “I hope so.” He pulled a kit from the pack, removing a lighter. One click later a flame danced at the end.

  She smiled at the sight. They were going to have a fire. That was the best news she’d heard all day.

  “Rest awhile. I’m going to gather some kindling.”

  While Noah was gone, Josephine looked around. She’d hardly even caught her breath, but she wasn’t going to sit around while Noah gathered wood.

  He’d said something about pine boughs. She opened the kit, rooted through it, and found a sturdy-looking folding knife. When she pulled out the blade, she was happy to see it had a saw-toothed edge.

  She wandered over to the nearest low branch and set to work. Her fingers were stiff and uncoordinated, and the blade was only five inches or so, making for slow going. She’d only managed a few boughs by the time Noah returned.

  The kindling clattered to the ground as he dropped it at the base of the incline. “I’ll do that after I get the fire going,” he called.

  “I’m fine.”

  She kept sawing on the bough until it broke off, then she brought it over with the others. It was a meager start. She was beginning to see why he’d stopped an hour before dark. There was a lot to do. Her stomach twisted with hunger, but they’d have to ration the snacks: a baggie of Life cereal, a few sticks of cheese, and half a can of peanuts.