“It’s very nice of you to show the kids around. I’m sorry about the misunderstanding.”
He plopped his hat on his head and nodded with a tight-lipped smile. “We both could learn a lesson on being clearer with what it is we want,” he offered quickly and strode toward the barn to get ahead of the children. He turned to face them at the door, getting their attention. “It’s important you don’t touch the animals. Don’t feed them unless I’m with you. With this many of you all at once, the horses are liable to be a little skittish, so it’s important to be calm. Can you do that?” Wyatt had his doubts, but was pleased to see nine heads bob up and down in response. “Good. Then stay together and no sudden movements.”
***
Aimee watched with curious wonder as Wyatt explained to the children what he did each day to care for the animals. He showed them his horse, Lady, and let each take a quick turn brushing and feeding her a small handful of oats. He explained how many cattle drives she’d done over the years, which launched a barrage of questions that he fielded with surprising ease. Aimee felt as though she was getting a rare glimpse at a side not many people, other than possibly his family, ever saw. He was patient, listened carefully to their questions, and treated each one, no matter how silly it may have sounded, with grave importance. She could not deny the tug in her heart at the sight of him surrounded by her kids as he knelt down and explained why horses wore shoes. Only once did their eyes meet above the class, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. Otherwise, she might as well have been invisible. Despite his resistance to them being just friends, she was grateful he’d taken the time with her students and beyond the customary thank-you notes she’d have her students write, Aimee wanted to thank him herself. He’d gone over and above the call of duty, and while she couldn’t tell yet if it had done anything to brighten his holiday spirit, she hoped it had at least planted a seed.
She glanced at her watch and realized almost an hour had passed. “Okay, children, we need to get going. We have an early dismissal and lunch in thirty minutes. Mr. Kinnison, may we borrow your facilities once more before we go?”
He nodded.
“Thank you. Children, is there something you’d like to say to Mr. Kinnison?”
“Thank you, Mr. Kinnison,” came the responses, which also included spontaneous hugs and applause.
By evidence of the sudden color in his face, the children had successfully embarrassed the rugged cowboy. Maybe they’d gotten through to him after all.
Wyatt pushed against the door to open it and from the puzzled look on his face, he’d apparently encountered some difficulty. Once again, he pressed his shoulder to it and this time it swung open A cloud of fluffy snow swirled around them. The children rushed past Wyatt and stood holding their tongues out to catch the fat snowflakes.
He tossed her a look. “You probably should be on your way.”
Aimee noted the dark steel-gray sky on the horizon. The snow, though steady, wasn’t sticking to the lane. After quickly shuffling the kids through another bathroom break, she helped to buckle them in and doled out a small packet of crackers to each child so their lunches wouldn’t be spoiled. She climbed behind the wheel.
Wyatt tapped on her window, and she rolled it down. “You shouldn’t have any trouble if you head straight back to town. Stay to the main roads, though. They will be the ones that the plows will have pretreated for the storm later on.”
“Thank you again. It already looks as though it’s letting up a little. We’ll be fine.” She turned over the ignition, which started the wiper blades and heat, and then flipped on the windshield defogger. She looked over her shoulder and spoke to her students. “Okay, it’s time to quiet down. We’ve had a wonderful morning, and we’ve got more fun ahead when we get back to school. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Ms. Worth,” they responded.
“You’re sure you’ll be okay?” His dark eyes searched hers.
She smiled and took the liberty of patting his hand resting on the door. “No worries, Mr. Kinnison, we’ll be fine. I promise you won’t have any surprise houseguests. “I have my cell phone and my charger. But I need to be on my way to get these kids back for lunch.”
He stepped away from the car as she rolled up the window. “Give me a quick call and let me know you’re back.”
Aimee swallowed, unable to take her eyes from his. Her heart raced with the thoughtful comment. “I will. Thank you.”
She pulled ahead and followed the natural curve of the drive. The kids all waved and she gave him a smile as they passed by him. Aimee checked the rearview mirror twice as they headed up the lane and saw him with his hands in his jacket, staring after them.
“Ms. Worth, I’ve decided I want a horse like Lady for Christmas. Do you think it’s too late to ask Santa?” a child in the far seat behind her asked.
She was glad to see, as she pulled onto the main highway, that the road was still clear. “Well, I suppose if you can reach Santa in time. I’m sure he’s very busy with Christmas being only two days away.” Aimee kept her eyes on the road, watching the small spots where skiffs of snow had blown across. A semi truck chugged up the hill going the opposite direction, encouraging her that the road ahead was fine.
“Ms. Worth, do the cattle get cold?” another child asked.
“They have fur, silly,” one of the boys boy responded.
“It’s a hide, not fur. Bears have fur, not cows,” Emilee replied with her distinctive command of the English language. Her parents and grandparents, all American Indian Crow, were avid readers and even now, Emilee read at a third-grade level.
“I saw a bear once,” Rory piped up.
“Did not,” came a doubtful response from somewhere in the backseats.
“Did so,” he belted back with determination.
“Boys, settle down. What did Ms. Worth ask you when I’m driving?” She glanced in the mirror. The two settled back in their seats and stared silently out the window. Aimee slowed considerably as she rounded one of the sharp, hairpin turns. Unprotected by trees, she felt a gust of wind nudge the side of the vehicle, accompanied by a brief swirl of snow that reduced her visibility. Judging by the landmarks she’d memorized, she was already halfway to town and closer to the back road cutoff she’d taken after stopping at Wyatt’s that night. She pondered whether they’d be better protected from the gusty wind by taking the tree-lined road.
If memory served, the overlook was just around the next bend and maybe a mile farther was the cutoff to the county road. Ahead, she saw a larger patch of snow that had blown across the road. Relief flooded her when she saw the familiar guardrail, preceding the overlook. She wasn’t far from the turn off onto the county road, and she reasoned, if the back road was clear, then she wouldn’t have to battle the wind on the open mountain curves. With her focus on watching for the turnoff, she didn’t immediately see the large animal dart across the road in front of her. Instinct caused her to pump her brakes, hoping to avoid hitting the big cat that had stopped on her side of the road to retrieve the carcass of the dead animal it’d been carrying. A flurry of excited yelps followed as her students also spotted the animal. Her gaze met that of the mountain lion just as she realized that she’d hit a patch of black ice.
She had no traction.
With a mighty grip of the wheel she fought to correct the direction of the sliding car, but the back end slid toward the side of the road. In less than a few yards, only a bit of rocky ground and the tops of a group of pines growing on the side of the mountain stood between the Suburban and a plunge of more than two hundred feet. Her mind registered the screams of the children and they melded with the horrific images of her sister that fateful day. She couldn’t breathe. The world seemed to spin in slow motion as the front of the vehicle hit the corner of the guardrail and the Suburban spun backward. Acting on instinct alone, she shifted into low and gently pumped the brakes, hoping to slow the slight descent into a shallow ravine that in a few yards spilled over
the edge into nothingness. If the trees didn’t stop her, she prayed the hand of God would. The tail end collided with something, jarring the truck to a standstill, and the sudden impact pushed her forward. Her head bounced off the steering wheel with a sickening thud. In the aftermath, she thought enough to shut off the vehicle. Dazed, she sat for a moment, aware of the whimpering and crying coming from behind her. She felt something wet trickling down her cheek and reached up to discover she was bleeding from her temple.
Blinking to clear her senses, she checked the rearview mirror and saw her students, scared, but seemingly unhurt. Beyond, to the rear of the truck, she could see the broken-off stump of a pine tree pressed against the window. “Is anyone hurt?” she whispered. She cleared her throat and spoke with greater authority. “Is anyone hurt?” Fighting an overwhelming nausea, she could see how close they’d come to toppling over the cliff. But they weren’t out of danger yet. She needed to get help, find a way to get them back up to the road, but she didn’t want to upset the balance of the vehicle and cause it to slide any more.
“I think I had an accident,” Rory said softly.
“It’s okay, honey,” she consoled the boy. “Does anyone hurt anywhere? Are you bleeding?”
A smattering of “noes” followed.
“Good. That’s good.” She spotted her scarf and wadded it up to press against her wound. Slowly she scanned their surroundings. At the top of the incline, the mountain lion stared down at them. After a moment, it sauntered away. “No one move. Do not get out of the car. I’m going to try to call out on my cell phone and see if I can reach the school.” She closed her eyes and pulled her thoughts together as best as she could. As frightened as she was, she was more concerned for her kids. They were counting on her to get them out of this unharmed. “Let’s sing a quiet song, shall we? It will help us calm down. Okay?” What’s a calming song? “I know. How about we sing ‘Silent Night’ and let’s pretend we’re singing to a baby. Okay? Very quietly.” She started them out and as they continued, she searched her pocket for her cell phone. With the cat out there nearby and the wind blowing as fiercely as it was, they were better off to stay in the car until help came. Aimee found her phone and began to dial the school number, but she had no signal. She dug through her backpack and found her charger, hoping that plugged into the vehicle, it might serve as a better receptor for the signal, but she still couldn’t get enough bars to make a call. Aimee dropped the phone on the seat and held in the tears of frustration threatening to overcome her. She stared out the front window.
“Ms. Worth? Are we going to freeze to death?” a little girl asked.
“No, sweetheart, we’re going to be fine.” She swiped her cheeks and straightened her shoulders. “Principal Kale knows our route and when we don’t show up at school on time, he will call Mr. Kinnison and then we’ll have lots of people coming to rescue us. We just need to stay calm and help keep each other warm. She fought a wave of dizziness, stiffening her resolve not to pass out. “Everyone keep your hats and mittens on. Zip up your coats.” The soft whimper of crying in the far back seat twisted her heart. There was no way she could absolve herself of the guilt she felt. Not because the accident was her fault, but because she was their teacher and teachers were supposed to keep their students safe. Aimee blinked away a fresh start of tears and took a deep breath. She glanced at the children behind her. “You all have been very good and are very brave. Thank you. Now I need you to put on your thinking caps and help me figure out what we can do until help arrives.”
The sniffling stopped.
“We could hold hands.”
Aimee smiled. “Yes, Emilee, that’s a good idea. Keep your mittens on and hold hands.”
“Ms. Worth?”
“Yes, Rory?”
“I’m kind of hungry.”
She nodded, peered down at her watch, and realized it was past one o’clock. Where had the time gone? The snow was coming down harder now. Any buildup or shift in the snow could cause the truck to—she stopped herself from thinking about it. “Someone is bound to come soon, honey. We just need to be very patient and brave. Who do you think is brave?” she asked, fishing through her bag for the apple slices she’d brought with her. She passed them out, grateful to keep the children’s minds occupied from the storm that seemed to be growing in intensity with each passing moment.
“My dad. He went to Afghanistan to fight,” one of her girls remarked.
“Your father is a brave man indeed, Jenny. Anyone else?” A slow, throbbing sensation caused her to blink, and her focus blurred, then cleared again and she fought to stay alert. She touched her temple and realized a goose egg the size of her fist had formed on her head. “Emilee?” she asked hurriedly.
“Yes, Ms. Worth?” she answered from her place in the middle seat.
“I am making you teacher’s assistant today. My helper in case I need it. Can you do that without being afraid?” Emilee was an old soul for such a young child. Her family was tight-knit and the influence from the many responsible adults in her life had had a profound effect on her. There was a short silence before she heard her answer.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m not afraid.”
“Good. Now I need to lay my head back and close my eyes for a moment or two. You all must listen to Emilee. She will tell me if anyone so much as moves a hair. We are going to wait patiently until someone comes, and I know they will. Principal Kale knows where we went today,” she repeated more to affirm the fact to herself than to her students. “Mr. Kinnison and your parents all know we’re out here. I’m certain they’ll be here soon.” She rested her head on the back of the seat, let her eyes drift shut, and prayed she was right.
Chapter Nine
Wyatt glanced at his watch. She hadn’t called him. But he reasoned she could have forgotten, with all the activities at school. He was about to look up her number when the shrill ring of the phone startled him. In two long strides, he snatched the receiver off the cradle.
“Kinnison Ranch.”
Mr. Kinnison?” The man spoke in an authoritative tone.
Wyatt’s gut tightened.
“Is Ms. Aimee Worth there, please? This is Principal Kale at the school. She was due back before lunch. We have parents lined up here waiting for their children.”
Wyatt closed his eyes, his worst fear confirmed. Something had happened to them out there. He reeled in his thoughts, realizing he had to be the one to explain to the principal that something wasn’t right. “She left here more than an hour ago, saying she needed to be back by lunchtime. The snow was light enough and the roads clear. She shouldn’t have had any trouble getting back to town. Something else must have happened, sir.
“I’ve tried her cell phone and can’t seem to get through.”
Wyatt watched the snow coming down outside the cathedral windows at the back of the house. “It could be where she’s at isn’t getting your signal. I’m going to head out and see if I can find her. I’ll let you know when I do.” He sat down and pulled on his boots as he held the phone in the crook of his shoulder.
“The problem, Mr. Kinnison, is all plows have been taken off the roads until the snow tapers off. I don’t know how you’re going to reach her from your end.”
Wyatt thought of Jed’s sleigh tucked away in the barn and silently thanked Rein for keeping it in working order. “I’ve got just the transportation, sir. Please tell your parents not to worry. I’m sure they’re fine. Aimee—er, Ms. Worth—seems to have a good head on her shoulders. I’ll call you as soon as I know something.
“Thank you, Mr. Kinnison. Please contact us as soon as you can and be careful yourself.”
“Yes, sir,” Wyatt stated, stomping his foot into his boot as he stood. He hung up, grabbed his coat and hat, and headed toward the barn. He threw the tarp off Jed’s old sleigh and made short order of hitching up his two strongest horses. He tossed several blankets in the seat, plus his rifle and ropes. He didn’t know what he might encounter out there. He shoved ope
n the double-wide doors and led the team out into what was quickly becoming a blizzard. He took hold of the reins, flipped his collar up against the wind, and held his head down as he drove the team up the lane. The sleek blades, cared for by his meticulous brother, sliced effortlessly through the deepening drifts. Wyatt made a mental note never to tease him about it again.
The horses tromped easily through the snow, and he was glad for the lack of other vehicles on the highway. He scanned the area, searching for the dark blue Suburban against the snow, watching carefully wherever a guardrail looked bent or broken. The wind gusted on the open curves, and he had to put his head down to protect his face from the icy shards, but the horses kept a steady pace, plodding effortlessly forward. He wasn’t sure of how long it took to get there, but he recognized they were approaching the overlook, which on a good day was about the halfway point through the pass between town and the ranch. As he came around the curve just before the turnoff, his heart stopped at the sight of faint skid marks pointing down a slight dip in the terrain. Beyond, where the area leveled slightly before it plunged hundreds of feet over the cliff, he saw the Suburban. It had done a one-eighty and was facing toward the road, its back bumper held in place by something hidden beneath the snow, probably an old tree stump. He brought the team to a halt, jumped down and wedged a piece of wood in front of the runners, praying no vehicles would come around the bend to startle the horses.
He wasted no time securing a rope to the guardrail and held tight to the other end as he maneuvered sideways down the slippery incline. He picked his way to the side of the truck. Careful not to move or jostle the vehicle in any way, he stopped near the driver’s side and peered in the fogged-over windows. He heard the muffled cries of a few of the children mixed with the weak sound of singing by others. His boot slid and he lost his footing, but he tried not to grab the car for balance. Instead, he clung to the rope and held his breath. Through the front window, he saw Aimee, hands poised on the wheel, her eyes wide with fear. Realizing she might have gone into a state of shock, he pulled himself upright and moved to her window, tapping on it gently as not to frighten her. The startled look on her face confirmed that if she wasn’t already in shock, she was close. Blood caked in her hair. When he motioned for her to roll down the window, she stared at him with glazed eyes.
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