The dogs ran ahead of her, and she hoped she wasn’t putting all their lives in danger. She walked as fast as her snowshoes would allow, continuing to wave the person in her direction and away from the avalanche path. She glanced up the mountain, finding herself much too close to the edge of the chute. The mountain was swollen with snow and the warmer temperature today, coupled with the wind, made conditions ripe. It might have been her imagination, but she thought she felt a slight tremor under her feet; her heart thundered nervously in response.
“Come on,” she yelled. “This way. Hurry!”
“I’m trying.”
Ryan shook her head.
A woman. That figures
. She was close now. Fifty feet at least, but Ryan didn’t want to chance going down the crest any further. She saw the woman struggling to walk in the snow, sinking each time above her knees. When she paused to rest, Ryan took another couple of steps in her direction.
“Come
on
,” she said loudly.
The woman put her hands on her hips. “What’s the rush?”
“You’re in the goddamn path of an avalanche, that’s the rush,” she yelled back.
The woman’s eyes widened, then, after a quick glance behind her, she hurried up the hill toward Ryan, using her hands to balance herself in the snow. Both dogs ran to meet her, barking their greeting. Ryan went down another few feet, holding out her hand to the woman. She took it, and Ryan nearly dragged her up the hill and over the crest.
“Walk in my tracks,” she said quickly. “We’ve got to get the hell out of here.”
All she heard was ragged breathing and the crunch of snow as she retraced her steps. She stopped suddenly, feeling a definite tremor, then another. “Oh fuck,” she whispered. “Run!
Now!
”
The dogs seemed to know that danger was imminent as they both barked frantically, running back and forth toward Ryan, then away.
“I know, I know,” she said. She was tempted to take off the snowshoes, but each second was precious. Her thighs burned as she concentrated on each step. Her shoes were caked with snow now, but she didn’t pause to clean them. “Come on,” she yelled behind her. “No time to waste.”
“I can’t,” the woman cried. “My legs are cramping.”
“Jesus,” Ryan hissed. She turned, again grabbing the woman’s hand and yanking her up. “Suck it up or we’re both going to die,” she said, her gaze meeting the woman’s directly for the first time. She looked into eyes as blue as the mountain sky, eyes shrouded in fear. “Now come on.”
The woman nodded, her gloved hand gripping tighter to Ryan’s. They got no more than ten feet further when she heard a low rumble. She stopped, her glance going to the top of Cooper’s Peak. She could literally see the mountain move. They were nearing a tree line, a scattering of spruce and firs dotting the landscape. She hoped the trees signaled that they were out of the path of the impending avalanche. Another two steps and she sunk past her thighs, her snowshoes scraping the side of a buried boulder. She pulled the woman past her, motioning to the spruce tree in front of them.
“Get behind it,” she instructed, though she knew the tree would offer them little protection if the avalanche swept their way.
The whole mountain began to shake, the low rumble turning into an angry roar. Their hands were still gripped tightly together, but Ryan’s eyes were glued to the show. The dogs whimpered beside her, and with her free hand she pulled them close to her. She watched in awe as the snow gave way, rushing down the chute at an amazing speed, covering everything in its path for hundreds of feet. A whoosh of cold air hit them as the snow sped past.
As quickly as it started, it was over. An eerie silence followed. She was aware of the absence of chattering jays and nutcrackers. Even the chickadees which constantly flitted among the trees were nowhere to be found.
“Wow.”
Ryan turned, finding the woman’s gaze still lingering on the mass of snow that now filled the crevice of the mountain, a space they had been scrambling out of only minutes earlier. A part of her was glad that there’d been someone here to share this moment with, someone other than the dogs. But the reality of the situation hit her. She pulled away from the woman, her eyebrows drawn together.
“Are you insane?”
The woman blinked several times as if considering the question literally. “Apparently.” She moved from behind the tree, pausing to pet a dancing Sierra before wiping at the snow clinging to her pants. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“What? Crossing the barricade blocking the road? Driving on a closed road in the first place?”
The woman frowned. “What are you talking about? Aren’t you from the lodge?”
It was Ryan’s turn to frown. “The lodge? Patterson’s Lodge?”
“Yes. I’m booked there for a workshop.”
Ryan shook her head.
Unbelievable.
“Across the mountains there,” she said, pointing, “you’re about eight miles away. By car, you’re about fifteen miles or so.” She shrugged. “Or six or eight weeks, give or take.”
“
What?”
Ryan began the slow hike up the mountain, whistling for the dogs to follow. She heard the woman scrambling after her.
“Wait a minute. What do you mean, six or eight weeks?”
Ryan turned around, angry now. She pointed down to where the woman’s car had been. Where it still was. Only now it was buried by a ton of snow. “What are you going to do? Drive out of here?” Ryan continued on. “You’re stuck here,” she tossed over her shoulder.
“Stuck?”
“Yeah, stuck. Stranded. Snowed in.”
“Will you wait a minute? Please?”
Jesus
. All Ryan could think about was that her plans for solitude had been shattered. Because some idiot woman got lost. So she stopped, waiting for the woman to catch up to her. Her anger faded, however, when she saw those sky-blue eyes filled with fear.
“I’m sorry, but where are we exactly? And...and who are you?”
It was only then that Ryan noticed the backpack slung over one shoulder and what appeared to be a laptop case strapped around her neck. She took the backpack from her, surprised at the heaviness of it. At least the woman had thought to get something from her car.
“That’s Cooper’s Peak,” she said, motioning to the mountain behind them. “My cabin is on the next ridge. We’re about fifteen miles south of Lake City. My name is...Ryan.”
“I’m Jennifer Kincaid,” she said. “Everyone calls me Jen.” She tilted her head. “Ryan? Is that your last name?”
Ryan lifted a corner of her mouth quickly, then began walking. “It’s just Ryan,” she said.
Jen stopped short, watching the inviting wisp of smoke circling above the cabin. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting. Well, yes, she was. She was expecting a simple, weekend-type, one-room cabin. Nothing this elaborate.
Ryan turned back around, motioning to the door which was protected by a sharp, A-frame roof. Snow was piled around it four feet high.
“You coming in?”
Jen hesitated. “This is...this is where you live?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Alone?”
“Well, with the girls,” she said, glancing at the two dogs who waited patiently at the door.
Jen looked around, seeing nothing but white. Even the trees were still covered in glistening snow. “I don’t see a road,” she said.
“No.” Ryan shrugged. “Well, there’s the little Jeep road I use to get to the forest road, but that’s covered with packed snow. Until at least May.”
“So...” she said.
“So?”
“So what does that mean? May?” She could tell Ryan was quickly losing patience with her, but she didn’t know this woman. She could be an ax murderer or something.
“May is when I can get my Jeep out and drive to the forest road. You know, the one you were on. The one that was closed. The one that had a barricade across it. So that
idiots
don’t drive up here this time of year and get
stuck
. That’s what I mean. So are you coming in or not? I’m cold and it’s starting to snow again.”
Okay, so the “idiot” word was meant for her. She took a deep breath and nodded. She didn’t really have a choice. Darkness was nearly upon them. She looked up, watching the thickening snow falling around her. She mimicked Ryan, pausing to stomp her boots, knocking the snow off. The snowshoes Ryan had worn earlier were hanging on a hook beside the door, the poles shoved in a corner. Ryan silently handed her backpack to her, then closed the door behind them.
It was blissfully warm inside. Jen followed the dogs to the heat source—a black cast iron stove tucked into one corner. She dropped her backpack on the floor and tore her gloves off, holding out her hands to warm them. She hadn’t realized how cold she was until she was inside.
Ryan joined her, pausing to remove her wool cap. Her dark hair was shaggy and unruly, but all she did was run her fingers through it a few times. Jen stared, just now noticing how attractive she was. Jen, too, took off her cap, knocking off clinging snow that fell to the stove with a sizzle.
Ryan watched her, her gaze sliding from the top of her head to her face. Jen followed with her hand, trying to put some semblance of order to her hair.
“I’m sorry,” Ryan said. “I shouldn’t have called you an idiot.”
Jen smiled. “Well, I suppose it’s the truth. I suck with maps, directions. I was just so sure I was on the right road.”
“Technically, you were. During the summer, the forest road crosses the mountain and skirts Cooper’s Peak. It’s a nice shortcut for me when I go into town. But the lodge is not too far off of the highway, so you’d want to keep going up near Slumgullion Pass. On the
paved
road.”
“So you...you do go into town then?”
Ryan simply raised her eyebrows.
“I mean, living out here like this, I assumed you were...like a...hermit,” Jen said shyly.
Ryan gave a quick chuckle. “I prefer the term ‘recluse.’ Hermit sounds too much like an old crazy woman.”
“Okay, but essentially the same thing,” Jen said.
“And your point?”
Jen looked away from her dark gaze. “Just curious as to why,” she said.
“I don’t like people.”
Jen took a step away from her. “I see,” she said quietly.
Ryan held up her hands. “I’m harmless. Promise.”
Jen eyed her suspiciously. “And I’m really stuck here?”
“Afraid so. Cooper’s Peak drops its load every year. That’s why they close the road.”
“There was a metal bar across the road, yes. But tracks went around it and it looked well used,” she explained. Of course, at the time, she should have paid more attention. She was just too focused on not getting lost.
“Snowmobilers use it since it’s closed to vehicles,” Ryan said. “But the avalanche buries the road—like it did your SUV—and they won’t bother plowing the lower road until spring.”
“Okay, I’m sorry, but all of that means what? Besides the fact that I’m an idiot,” she said.
“Barring a helicopter rescue, that means you’re stuck here until the lower road is cleared. You’ll still have to hike down to that. Like I said, the road up here this high won’t be clear until May. But I’d think by mid-April, the lower road will be passable.”
April?
“Two...two
months
?”
“Afraid so.” Ryan moved away from the stove, motioning to the kitchen area. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Actually, I really need to pee,” Jen admitted, looking around and wondering if the cabin boasted modern facilities. The kitchen appeared to be fully functional.
“This way,” Ryan said. Jen followed her down a short hallway with two doors. Ryan pushed open one, revealing a very large contemporary bathroom. Jen assumed the other was the bedroom. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment. The reality of her situation hit her full force, and she felt panic grip her. If Ryan hadn’t come along, she would have most likely been caught in the avalanche and killed. And, if she’d survived it, then what? With temperatures well below freezing, she probably wouldn’t have made it through the night.
But here she was, in a warm cabin about to use a flush toilet, in the middle of the proverbial nowhere. Miles from civilization. Sharing space with a “recluse.” And two dogs. For six weeks. Possibly eight.
She met her reflection in the mirror, uncertainty and panic giving way to dread. Could she survive being stuck here for two months?
Ryan stood at the windows, staring out at the endless white landscape, the thick snow clouds ushering in dusk earlier than normal.
It could be worse
, she thought. She could have rescued a brash, obnoxious twenty-year-old male. Or a grandmother. So, yeah, it could be worse. Nevertheless, it did put a kink in her plans. She glanced at her desk, her eyes landing on her laptop. She supposed she could still get some writing done. Maybe Jennifer Kincaid would not be nosy and ask a lot of questions. She had her own laptop. Maybe she could stay entertained on her own. She turned when she heard the bathroom door open.
“Thank you.”
She simply nodded and returned to her view. She felt Jen come up beside her.
“This is incredible. Did you build it?”
Ryan nodded. “Took two summers. It’s not huge, but the workers could only work about five months each summer.” She stepped back, deciding to give a quick litany of the cabin and get it over with.
“I have solar panels on the roof and a battery array to run the appliances and lights. I have propane to run the hot water heater, clothes dryer and stove.” She motioned to the windows. “All of these oversized windows face south and west to optimize the natural light. As a rule, I don’t turn on any lights until dusk. I have a couple of small wind turbines farther up the mountain. Nothing fancy but they help recharge the batteries. And I have a generator for those prolonged snowy days when the solar panels are useless.” She went into the kitchen and turned on the faucet and quickly turned it off. “Running water. I have a well with a solar-powered pump. And I have a satellite dish for both TV and Internet.” She shrugged. “All the comforts of home.”