by Nancy Radke
If she had had her ice ax, she could’ve stopped instantly, slamming the point deep into the snow. Visualizing the drop to the stream bed below, she spread her arms and legs wide, trying to brake herself. She continued to slide, picking up speed.
17
Mary’s fingers scraped across the crusted snow as she frantically tried to stop.
No use. The slope proved too steep, the snow too wet, to create any friction. First her legs went over the edge, then her body. The void opened beneath her.
She stopped, suddenly, held by her pack. Either it had caught on something, or....
Looking up, she realized that Ira, third in line, must’ve thrown himself out in a shallow dive, and grabbed her pack as she sped by. He lay facing her, holding on as he gathered his strength, then hauled her back onto the ledge. He had come close to going over himself, but had used Connor's ice ax— her father's ax— to stop them both.
Mary lay on the cold dampness for a moment, regaining her breath, then pushed herself to her feet. She had been seconds away from injury—or death. If she had hurt herself, they would’ve made Connor carry her, but if she had been killed, Judd would’ve shot him.
It had all taken less than a minute. Bruised and wet, she nodded her thanks to Ira, then brushed off her knickers and shook the snow out from under her parka.
Thank you, Lord, for saving me. And Connor.
She stood still, looking around the enveloping forest. The trees grew thick and tall, blocking out the sun. The shining white snow— pristine in its beauty— covered the treacherous black rocks. It created a trap for the unwary— just as the bland, smiling countenance of an evil person hid the blackness of a deceitful heart.
Ira remained an enigma. He had used his injured wrist to catch her. It must’ve hurt something fierce, yet he hadn't cried out. A strange man. One she couldn't begin to understand.
Quiet, neat, but extremely accurate with his knives, he didn't appear as evil as Wes and Ramone. Yet he killed without emotion, which could be even more dangerous. There had to be a reason Ramone walked carefully around him.
How rotten were these men, she wondered as she started up the slope once more. Judd led, but it was more like heading up a pack of wolves ready to tear him apart at anytime. He didn’t lead because they respected him. They only followed because they all wanted the chest.
It looked like they relied on Judd to be the planner and organizer. He appeared to be well-educated, thoughtful, almost civil when his orders were being carried out. Deadly when they weren't.
Ramone made her flesh crawl with his wolf-like stare. His eyes reflected his lustful thoughts and Mary had ceased looking at him, treating him as if he didn’t exist. Only then could her mind tolerate his presence.
Wes appeared the most slovenly in his habits. He didn’t bother to tie his pack together—the straps hung loose and the flaps fell open. He had tried to throw away several items and Judd had growled at him, so he had added them to Connor's pack.
Both Wes and Ramone smoked, leaving a trail of cigarette butts behind that’d make it easy for any of her Search and Rescue teams to follow. If they followed.
If anyone tried to stop them, he’d be shot. She wished now she had taken the group into a less used part of the Cascades. She’d be okay this weekend, unless some hardy soul ignored the avalanche warnings and took a camping trip into one of the frozen lakes.
She’d just have to chance it and watch for human tracks.
She had been following bear tracks for the last few feet. If the bear appeared and charged them, they’d have nowhere to go except down.
Being in the lead, she’d come across it first. She began to sing, bouncing from one song to another, to make enough noise to warn it. Unless it was in a terrible mood, it would move out of their way.
It would have plenty of warning as they were traveling with the speed of slugs. On this section of trail, each step required a lift of twelve to fourteen inches or more. Step, pause, rest, step, rest longer.
The men limped with each step. Ira's wet jeans hampered his movements— and Connor's legs wobbled as he staggered over each obstacle.
Three-quarters of the way up the mountainside, Mary stopped. Before her lay a huge flat rock that covered the next forty feet. It sloped sharply toward the ravine, its smooth surface offering few points. The steepness of the slope and the warmth of the winter sun had left a wet surface that had iced over as the rock fell into shade once again.
She surveyed the situation. They were in one of those places where the bank rose steeply on their left and dropped straight off on their right, leaving no way around.
Mary removed her pack and pulled out her climbing rope. Ira stood right behind her, but she moved past him and handed one end of the rope to Judd.
"What's this for?" he asked.
"Unless you want to turn around, we have to cross that rock. It's covered with ice and I don't want to fall all the way to the bottom. Have you ever belayed anyone?"
"No."
"Put this around your waist and hold on to both ends, like this. Let out the rope— like this— as I go across, keeping it from going too slack. Make sure you're braced, to hold my weight and the weight of my pack if I fall. And give me my ice ax. I'll need it."
Judd removed her ax from where he had hung it on his pack and handed it to her.
"Thanks." She said the word automatically.
"Welcome."
She gave Judd a startled glance, not expecting any such reply from him, shook her head at the complexity of everything, then tied the other end of the rope around her waist.
After making doubly sure that Judd knew what to do, Mary stepped out onto the slippery rock and carefully made her way across. She slid several times but caught herself with her ax.
Once on the other side, she continued on until she found a spot where she could use a rock to help her belay, then called back to the others to use the rope as a handhold to cross.
Ramone crossed first, quickly losing his sneer when both feet went out from under him and the rope was all that kept him from going over the edge. He crawled the rest of the way, pulling hard on the rope, and settled beside Mary, sullen.
Ira came next, without mishap, using the rope to steady himself, a thoughtful expression on his face as he checked the drop-off below him.
Ira might be the most dangerous of them all, Mary decided.
"Untie Connor before he crosses," she called.
Wes laughed, an evil snicker that made Mary cringe. "Why? A tumble might take him down a notch."
These men were both selfish and cruel. To plead for Connor's safety wouldn’t sway them. His size and strength was enough to provoke them into wishing him harm.
Then Connor spoke up. "If I go over the edge, you'll sleep cold tonight."
"Huh?"
"I'm carrying your sleeping bags, remember?"
Wes evidently liked his comfort, for he handed the rifle to Judd long enough to move up to Connor and free his hands. Mary braced herself for Connor's crossing. With his hands free he did fine, hanging onto the rope whenever he slipped. He gave her a hug when he reached her side. The hug, although quick, lifted Mary's spirits, connecting her to him once more.
Wes crossed right behind, the rifle slung onto his pack. Mary glanced at Ramone and Wes as Judd started to cross.
"Both you and Wes will have a hard time if Connor goes off a cliff," she told them. "It always pays to carry your own equipment. Especially if the person carrying your things is off balance and has his hands tied down. One misstep on this trail can be fatal. I'd either take back my bags or leave him untied."
"She's got a point," Wes said, glaring at Connor with the smoldering hatred he seemed to carry toward all men.
The men hadn’t pulled their hand guns out. They were becoming just a little careless around Connor as they grew tired from the trail.
Judd arrived and reached for the Velcro straps. "Turn around," he commanded, and Connor
did so, slowly.
Anger hit Mary in a hot fiery wave. She became too mad to be afraid.
"You re-tie him on this part of the trail, and you'll have to carry me," she announced, recoiling the rope. "I'm not going one step further if you do. He has to be able to catch himself."
"Yeah, Judd," Ira interposed. "Leave him untied."
"Then keep your knife handy," Judd demanded. "And don't get too close to him. Give me the ax, Mary. I don't want you dropping it where McLarren can grab it."
"I need it."
"Not here."
"Then we should rope up."
"No. Takes too much time. We go as we are."
Stubborn man. And foolish. He’d learn about the mountains, and be forced to realize that they rewarded caution and punished the careless.
She handed the ax to Wes, who passed it along to Judd. They turned to go again, this time with Wes following Mary, then Judd, then Connor.
Whether Connor was faking it or not, Mary didn't know, but soon afterwards he slipped twice, just barely catching himself. After the second near fall, Ramone took his sleeping bag back, while Wes watched with a frown.
They topped the ridge and followed it upward for a half-mile, the snow growing deeper step by step. It had been packed hard by the driving wind and supported their weight for the most part, so Mary didn't bother taking out the snowshoes.
At this point the trail dipped over the other side of the ridge, cutting diagonally across the slope. The wind-driven snow formed a long cornice on the north side, and Mary stopped, eyeing the descending trail with unease. It passed right below the overhanging lip of the cornice, which would’ve been rendered unstable by the afternoon sun.
The bear had gone under the heavy lip of snow, but Mary decided against following. The trail would be a lot safer in the morning, with the snow colder and the bear gone.
On this side of the ridge the land formed a small bowl-shaped pocket surrounded by trees, and Mary turned toward it. Not the most ideal place to make camp, but a whole lot better than being stuck on the side of some mountain when darkness descended.
"Where're you going?" Wes demanded, as Mary backed up and turned at right angles to the trail.
"Right there." She pointed. "It's time to set up camp."
"But it ain't yet three o'clock. Hey, Boss!" he called over his shoulder. "She's stopping for the night."
"What? No way."
"It gets dark fast in the mountains," Mary yelled back to Judd. "It's always smart to pick your campsite when you can, and not when it's getting dark and you don't have a choice. If we camp here, nothing's going to fall on us during the night."
"Fall on us?" Judd looked carefully around at the shallow, snow-covered bowl with its gentle, sloping sides.
"Like avalanches. The trail ahead is too dangerous this time of day. I'm not going down until it's had a cold night to settle it." Even then she didn't know if she wanted to go under that cornice. She might have to lead them completely around the area.
"Will it be safe in the morning?"
"Maybe. We'll see. We might need to retrace our steps and do a little cross-country hiking. Also, you all need practice using snowshoes before we go any further."
"I need to stop, Judd," Ira called forward. "I'm soaked to the waist."
Judd removed his sunglasses and wiped his eyes, then scowled at Mary. "Did your old man like hiking this far to his cabin?"
"Yes. He enjoyed the woods. But he usually went up in the summertime and stayed a week or two before coming back out. Conditions are a lot better then.
Judd nodded, apparently satisfied. "We'll set up camp, then practice some." He waved to Mary. "Lead on."
Mary walked across the snow to the semi-protected camp site. The surface had melted and then frozen again, forming a hard crust. It supported most of her steps but collapsed under the men, especially the ones behind Connor. When they did break through the crust, it brought them to their knees and they had to struggle out of the hole they had made.
Once in the pocket she removed her load and began to pack down a flat area for her tent. The others limped along to where she was, dropped their packs and sat on them, heads down.
Connor looked near collapse, almost crawling the last few yards. Yet as soon as he reached her side and pulled off his pack, he asked what he could do to help.
She pushed her glacier glasses up on her forehead and blinked at the sun's strong rays, reflected off the snow. Slowly she rubbed the bridge of her nose and the area under her eyes.
"I guess you can help me set up the tent, then we can put our things inside, although I could do it myself."
"Don't bother," Ramone interrupted, stepping toward them. "I'll be guarding Mary. Put your things in another tent, McLarren."
Mary stopped breathing. Judd held the leash, but he had refused to restrain Ramone before. Had he agreed to let Ramone guard her tonight? The loathsome creature acted confident enough. Panic shook her, driving out reason.
In her mind, she had linked herself with Connor, always. She had been looking forward to tonight, getting to know him better. But Judd wouldn't leave them together, unguarded. She and Connor might untie each other and get away.
She didn't want to spend the night in a tent with any of these murderers. Especially Ramone. She held back a whimper of terror as he walked closer to her, his evil grin of anticipation causing her to glance desperately toward Connor.
In response to her unspoken plea, Connor drew himself up, fists tightening, his body poised for action. He stood ready to kill for her, Mary realized— to protect her from the worst kind of attack a woman could face.
Quickly she reached out a hand to stop him as he stepped forward to meet Ramone's challenge. The situation— explosive— could lead to his death. Mary didn't want another death on her conscience. Even if a miracle happened and Connor won, she couldn't expect him to take Ramone's life to save her.
Her stomach churned, icy and sick, rebelling against the choice she must make.
She’d survive Ramone. Other women had gone through similar experiences and made it— if no longer whole, at least alive.
She had to survive Ramone to save Connor's life. And it wouldn't be just one night. It’d be every night until they could get away. She must prolong the trip, but in doing so, she put herself at the mercy of Ramone's lustful assaults.
She had no other option. As she reached her decision, she realized it was the same choice her mother had made, years ago.
18
Clinching his fists, Connor thrust himself in front of Mary. He’d die before he allowed Ramone in her tent.
Ramone stopped and pulled out his Luger. "You really want this, don't you?" he snarled, grinning wolfishly. He waved the barrel from side to side, backing up to put a little more distance between them.
Connor shoved Mary aside to remove her from the line of fire. "Stand back," he demanded.
She stepped closer. "No, I—"
"Stay away!" Couldn't she see Ramone was at flash-point?
Ramone lifted the semi-automatic and chambered the first bullet, then aimed at Connor.
Connor didn't hesitate. He refused to be shot like a tin can on a post. He lunged forward and to the left, lessening the distance between them while at the same time forcing Ramone to shift his aim.
The shot reverberated loudly in the snow-covered woods and the bullet sang as it passed. Close. Very close.
A second shot spurred Connor faster. He was two yards from Ramone when his left foot plunged through the snow's crust, throwing him to his hands and knees.
No!
Ramone laughed maliciously and steadied his hand as Connor tugged his foot free. Desperate, Connor snatched up a chunk of the crust and threw it, making Ramone duck, his aim waver.
The third shot went wide. Barely. The high-pitched whine announced the bullet's passage as Connor dove to his left and rolled across the snow.
He struggled upri
ght, his body tensing for the blow of the next bullet. His luck had run out. There was no way he could reach the—
"Ramone!" Ira stood less than six yards away, his feet wide and knife raised. "Don't yuh!" he yelled— the first time Connor had ever heard him raise his voice.
Ramone looked over his shoulder and hesitated, his mouth opening and closing in mindless frustration. "You? Stay out of this."
Ira waggled his knife with deadly purpose. "Leave ‘em alone."
A mild rumbling erupted from behind them, the sound changing quickly to an deep roaring thunder. Ramone's shots had triggered an avalanche on the other side of the ridge— the cornice that Mary had refused to walk under.
The noise emphasized Ira's threat, although Ira didn't bother to turn and look at the white cloud boiling up behind him. He stayed focused on Ramone, excluding all else.
"I can wait," Ramone proclaimed with boastful intent. Giving one last sneer at Connor, he tramped away, making a production of blowing the smoke from the barrel of his Luger.
Ramone hadn’t given up. He’d try again, when Ira wasn’t around. Connor nodded a brief, "Thank you,” but Ira refused to acknowledge it and walked off.
Connor turned back to Mary, his muscles still tightly coiled from the encounter. Her eyes, wide and stricken, reflected her terror, and he quickly returned to her side.
"Did he... did he hit you?" she cried, her hands groping across his chest, pulling at his coat sleeve, seeking reassurance.
"Nope. His shots were wide." He tried to shrug off her fears, while he stilled the violent shaking of his body. A shot of adrenaline made any man shake afterwards.
"Not that wide." She yanked his sleeve around so he could see the hole burned there. A neat hole, in and out through the bulky folds of the heavy down parka.
He flexed his arm to see if it hurt, but it felt fine. The tension slowly ebbed away, leaving him spent.
"I'm all right," he assured her. "It missed." Although more from fool luck than anything else. If Ira hadn't stepped in.... "Ramone isn't that good a shot. He's so eager to kill, he doesn't aim."
She plucked at his coat sleeve in nervous agitation. "You mustn't ever antagonize them. Ever again. Especially Ramone. Promise me!" Her voice quaked as she stumbled over the words.
